Twisted Reflections
by vendetta543
Summary: She was a failure of a Mage, unable to cast even the most simple spells. He was an Undead, a monster used as a pawn in battle he could never understand. They had nothing in common, and yet fate saw it fit to bind the two souls together.
1. An Explosive Entrance

**Hey everyone! If you've read my other stories before, then this story might come as a bit of a surprise. I've decided to expand from my usual batch of IS fics for something else:) I've been playing Dark Souls recently and the whole "Prepare to die" tagline is stuck in my head. Recently, watching the lore and the "Prepare to cry" video's has let me gain an even better understanding of the story and endings. **

**Zero no Tsukaima's also interested me as well, not the least of which is due to the fact that the whole Magocracy/Nobility system is very similar to the ruling body of Vinheim and the focus on religion/Theocracy of Thorolund. Meshing these two worlds together makes for a very interesting contrast and comparison.**

**If I focus on the romance, it probably won't be with Louise. I dunno, I guess I'm just one of those people who find getting whipped and treated like shite to be a complete and total turn off. **

**I will warn you that this will probably be pretty bad. I'm a bit rusty on writing right now and so this might look choppy or undetailed. I'm sorry if that is the case.**

**By the way, there'll be spoilers for the main game here along with the 'Artorias of the Abyss' DLC. Well, I've gabbed on long enough. I hope anyone who reads the story enjoys and leaves reviews.**

* * *

As the legends stated: 'At first there was nothing but dark and everlasting dragons. Unchanging beings who dominated the world with both their power and immortality. Then came light and fire. The age of the Gods and Saviors of all.'

Nito, the first of the dead. He who regulated and observed death and destruction throughout Lordran and the world at large. His loyal followers obeyed his every whim, spreading death and misery as a show of appeasement to the Gravelord. Many would consider both him and his followers evil, spreading misery and death as they did, but they would justify themselves as movers and forces of nature.

The witch of Izalith, and her daughter's of chaos. They were tied to the creation of Pyromancy and chaos magic, along with the (unintentional) creation of all known demons that plagued the known world. Their magical power when it came to flame was unmatched, and they prospered with the power given to them by the first flame. Lost Izalith itself was a Mecca of advancement of culture and technology.

Lord Gwyn, who was followed by his faithful Black knights. Whether it was to protect a city against overwhelming odds, or to kill hundreds of innocents to save a thousand, the knights were utterly loyal to him and him alone. Gwyn himself was known for his leadership skills and vast strength. It was he who led the combined assault against the dragons and was extremely crucial to their victory.

And the Furtive Pygmy, so easily forgotten. His role, if he even had any, against the war with the dragons was lost to time. Some would call him humanity's champion, the one who stood up for humanity during their darkest hour. Others would call him a coward, a useless parasite who hid behind the power of the others and only claimed reward by association. Whatever he was, his discoveries and plans were set in motion long after he was gone.

And finally, Seath. The scaleless dragon and pariah of dragonkind. Unlike his other kin, he wasn't born with the scales of immortality he so fanatically coveted. It was his betrayal that was pivotal to the destruction of dragonkind, though what exactly he did remains unknown to this day. For his service, Lord Gwyn made him a Duke and granted him various resources for his research into the dragon's immortality.

And afterwards came a time of peace and prosperity, where the God's ruled all the humans benevolently and the humans were quite happy to serve them for the eternal peace and understanding that rewarded them when they did. All was well, there was no more violence, and everyone lived happily ever after.

Or at least that's what Gwyn's legends and official history claimed. Seath's rampant abductions and experiments, the false flame that the witch of Izalith tried to create, the flooding of New Londo that was done in order to contain the darkwraiths (Which didn't help, seeing as they still roamed to this very day), and other such nonsense were obviously propaganda made by those who were against the God's. Everything was fine and it would always be so.

Even when the first flame started to go out.

Gwyn didn't die. Of course he didn't, he just went away for a while and left his kids to take care of the realm as a secret test of character. No, the two eldest siblings did NOT leave Anor Londo for various reasons, and the youngest child quite obviously didn't spend all his time in his father's tomb like a baby entranced with a rattle. Anybody who thought that must've been a darkwraith in disguise or absolutely deluded. Either way it was justification for them to be turned undead and dumped into the undead asylum.

The Asylum? Of course it was only for those who were either conspirators against the everlasting age of fire or those who were irredeemably insane. Any rumors or talk about the Way of the White covenant corralling 'innocent' undead to turn them hollow and sacrificing them to prolong the age of fire was obviously hogwash. The age of fire was in no danger at all and it would always stay safe.

No matter what the cost.

* * *

Pain.

Hot burning pain seared through his body, mind and soul. There was no end, no break, and no relief for even a second to his torment. It was always the same.

He couldn't see anything beyond the orange flames. All he could see were the intense flames lapping at his skin like a starving dog and the smoke that filled his nostrils and eyes with its strong odor.

Moving around was hard, but bearable. Then again, why would he? He was trapped in here to burn for all eternity. He had long ago abandoned standing up all together and made do with crawling on all fours. Even then that took a massive effort, as if the weight of the world was bearing down on him along with his skin being melted off and put back together like the wax in a candle.

He honestly didn't know how he hadn't turned insane at this point. There was certainly nothing to encourage him not to, and insanity might have at least stopped him from feeling the pain that plagued him for so long.

How long? He didn't know the answer to that question. At first he made an effort to keep track of how long he'd spent here, but he gave up after the 3rd week of constant immolation. Maybe it had been months since he'd stopped counting, maybe it was years, or maybe it was only a couple of hours. He honestly didn't care at this point.

There was always a voice at the back of his head telling him to give up and give in to despair and insanity. But, stupid as he was, he refused. Maybe it was due to a deluded sense of pride, or maybe it had to do with him being afraid of losing himself. It was probably a bit of both.

So here he was, burning and dying again and again. The only thing he was sure of was that he'd done this willingly and not due to trickery. He'd done it knowing exactly what would happen if he chose to link the flame. He'd forgotten a lot of things: His motivations, his skills, and even his identity. He was a husk, teetering on the edge of insanity, but he did it willingly.

Knowing that made his torment all the more bearable.

* * *

Louise tightened her grip on the wooden wand. Today was the Familiar summoning ritual, the one day that would fully make or break her status as a mage.

Her classmates cheered politely as Guiche bowed and brandished another rose from his back, _'Annoying Fop'_, Louise thought angrily. He had just finished his summoning and came out of it with a mole familiar, a perfect symbol for his affinity with earth. She could already see some of her female classmates making goo-goo eyes at it.

No one paid attention to her, which she found a relief at the moment. Her hands felt clammy and her eyes constantly shifted left and right like a paranoid thief about to make a snatch. She was always insulted by her peers as the "Zero", and so she found the rare moments of solitude to be very comforting. Today was the day she would finally be able to get rid of that stupid moniker. If she could summon a familiar, then it would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was a mage.

Her thought process was cut short by the feeling of two pillows being mashed onto the back of her head. Of course since they were standing in a field of grass, pillows coming out of nowhere were impossible. She already knew the cause of it.

"What do you want, Zerbst?" Louise stepped forward and whipped around quickly, giving the tall (and not to mention busty) redhead a fierce glare, "I'm trying to focus on the ritual."

Kirche gave the small pinkette a smile, "Are you sure about that? You look more like you're worried whether you'll be able to summon anything at all," She giggled slightly at the twitch Louise gave, "Maybe you should quit while you're ahead and you embarrass yourself any further. I'll even distract the teacher the teacher if you like."

Louise seethed. Kirche was always like this; mocking her for every little flaw she had. Ever since the first few days of school the two of them had been at odds. The difference being that Louise took their rivalry very seriously while Kirche seemed to treat it like an afternoon game.

Behind Kirche, the giant salamander stared at Louise with a listless glance. It was as if that thing was mocking her just like its master did.

"Shut up!" Louise stamped her foot against the grassy soil, "I'll prove to you that I'm a great mage! I'll summon the best familiar here that'll beat everyone elses!"

"Oh really?" Kirche arched an eyebrow up slightly, "Then by all means, prove it. After all, you've already gotten everyone's attention."

Louise gave the fiery redhead a questioning look before she realized what she meant: Everyone in the field was staring at the two of them. Her yelling had evidently gotten everyone's attention over Guiche's recent summoning.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" Louise whispered harshly to the Germanian student.

"Whatever do you mean, Valliere?" Kirche gave her a slight push, "Now that you're all fired up, I think you should go ahead and do the summoning ritual. No point in wasting all the energy, right?

Most of her classmates her whispering among themselves. They didn't say it out, they were probably saving it for later, but Louise could make out their snickers and name calling again. They didn't believe she could do it. They thought she'd fail again like she always did and that it would just end up in another explosion.

She would prove them wrong.

"Ahem, well then..." Mr. Colbert coughed and gave an awkward clap to bring the attention back to him, "Miss Valliere, it's your turn for the summoning ritual. Please recite the ritual and receive your holy familiar."

Louise nodded slightly and stepped onto the designated space. All of her nervousness was gone and was replaced with the overpowering desire to prove her peers wrong. To the side, she saw all of her classmates looking at her with disdain or amusement. She wanted so badly to prove them wrong right now.

All except Kirche, who was giving her an enigmatic smile. Did she mock her on purpose to get her fired up? Louise shook her head. That was a stupid idea. Why would the Germanian noble deign to help her? They hated each other since day one.

With a deep breath, she began reciting the ritual.

* * *

As he prepared himself for yet another day of burning and pain, something happened. A voice echoed into his head.

"My name is Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière."

He didn't recognize the name. It didn't sound like anything resembling something from the various countries. Vinheim was probably the closest when it came to the surname, but the fact remained that it was different. Thorolund fit the overtly long and archaic sounding naming sense, but again it sounded off. The voice reminded him of Rhea.

Rhea? Wait, who was that again? Memories had an odd habit of coming and going extremely quickly, especially now. He needed to remember her...right, now he remembered. The noble from Thorolund who he saved from the catacombs after that bastard Petrus abandoned her and that son of a bitch Patches kicked them in. Petrus nearly killed her again in the parish and he would've succeeded if he didn't pass by through sheer chance and wanting to buy a miracle. Eventually he found her gone one day and-

Wait, what was he talking about again? Oh right, the name. Well, the name didn't sound familiar to him, no matter how much he thought of it.

"My Chosen familiar that exists somewhere in this vast universe."

_'Chosen? Hah, what a load of garbage,' _He grimaced at the memory. He was always called the Chosen undead, for it was his name and moniker. He'd gotten it after he'd rung both of those god-forsaken bells in the undead church/blight town and that deceiving snake Frampt told him he was Lord Gwyn's successor. He was told that he was to inherit Gwyn's power, but that he would have to save the Princess of Sunlight in order to do so.

He was more naive back then, willing to believe that he was unique and that he had the special destiny of saving the world. Even then he didn't remember anything of who he was. His first memory was waking up in that rotten asylum and spending days trapped there before Oscar, the man who started everything, threw the body with the key down into his cell.

From there it was just one thing after another. He never knew what kept him going or why he continued to try and ring those two bells. Oscar told him that it would cure the darksign if he did it, but wouldn't that mean he would die if he succeeded? Maybe even back then he was seeking death.

But then Frampt had to come along. When he realized that his journey to the bells was all pointless, he had all but given up. He was prepared to spend the rest of his undeath rotting away in firelink shrine and waiting till he went Hollow. Frampt was the one who gave him hope that it wasn't all pointless and that he could still make something of himself.

"My divine, beautiful, wise, powerful familiar."

Well, he certainly felt like that way (Except for the beautiful part. He was in Hollow form a lot of the time). He felt empowered. It was as if he was a hero straight out of legend that was on a quest to save the world. He would be the one to bring light and hope to the world and give everyone a future worth living for.

And that was when Kaathe told him the truth.

Kaathe was an enigma, even more so than Frampt. The Primodial serpent appeared before him after he defeated the 4 kings in the abyss and told him Frampt was wrong: He wasn't meant to bring light back into the world, he was meant to plunge it into true darkness so that the 'Age of man'. He was never meant to succeed Gwyn. It was a lie, all to prolong the age of the God's.

He didn't really know how he felt at that moment. Betrayed wouldn't be the right word since he never fully trusted Frampt to begin with. But still he trekked on, motivated to succeed in his goal and continue his quest. Whether he trusted Frampt or Kaathe on his so called destiny was irrelevant; he had nothing else to live for, and so he went on.

He'd traveled far and wide across the lands of Lordran in order to complete his goal. From the beautiful halls of Anor Londo to the destroyed ruins of Lost Izalith, he continued to fight. Monster after monster, God after God fell to his blade. He'd died many times in the process, but he oddly never Hollowed. Even if he died in the process, he would keep going at it till he succeeded in what he set out to do.

In his journeys he'd thought a lot about what he would do once he reached the end. Both serpents were tricking him, that much was obvious. He knew that both of them had their agenda's and that he was simply the final piece of the puzzle that had to be placed. And so, when he stared down onto Gwyn's lifeless corpse, he made the choice.

Kaathe wasn't lying. He might have omitted the truth in some aspects, but he never actually told a falsification. Humanity would rule and the age of Dark truly was the age of man.

He just never specified what man would become.

Neither serpent accounted him being dragged into the past and meeting Manus. Manus was the Primeval Human, the progenitor of both him and mankind in general. His humanity had gone out of control and he turned into that bloated monstrosity, seeking only to find his pendant and spreading the abyss and darkness wherever his corrupted touch made contact. He'd fought the Knight Artorias and killed him. Artorias was corrupted by the abyss and sacrificed his life in order to try and halt its eventual advance.

Humans would rule during the age of dark, but at what cost? To turn into monstrous figures that spread only darkness? While Frampt was indeed deceiving him, he did so for a purpose. Gwyn feared the darkness and with good reason.

He made the choice to link the fire. He knew it was temporary, and that at some point he would die and turn into an empty shell like Gwyn, but he didn't care. if he could stave off the darkness even for a while, then he was satisfied.

"Heed my call! I wish from very bottom of my heart and add to my guidance and appear!"

And through the flames he saw it. A green circle, no larger than his body. Even through all his pain and suffering, he still felt the urge to go towards it.

Slowly, he stood up. His legs taking one pained step after another . Every nerve of his body yelled at him not to go, but he resisted and kept going. There was nothing but flames and torment waiting for him here if he stayed.

"I...refuse to stay!"

It was the first time he'd heard his voice since he'd made his choice. With newfound confidence, he reached a hand through the portal.

* * *

The first thing that greeted Louise was extreme heat. This was different from her usual explosions since this one seemed sustained and even hotter than normal. For a moment she felt elation. Heat usually related to fire, which meant that she'd summoned a flame familiar. While she certainly didn't relish the idea of sharing an element with that idiot Kirche, having an element at all certainly made her forget all about that.

She could see her classmates pointing forward and giving various stares past her. The smoke still blocked her vision, so she could only assume they were pointing in wonder at her amazing familiar. With the amount of heat she was feeling, it was probably something amazing like a dragon or something. Gleefully, she turned around and looked back at her classmates amazed faces.

They were amazed alright, but not in the way she was expecting. Rather than open wonderment or surprises, she saw hesitation and fear adorning their faces. Louise quickly turned back to the summoning space and looked at her familiar.

What stood there was not a majestic Dragon or even a small lizard, but a corpse. A burning corpse. She could see it on its hands and knees as flames burnt all around it. The portal behind it closed with a quick pop, but the flames remained. Oddly enough the grass around the area never caught fire. It was as if the flame was attached to it. Its entire body was a dark red in color and bits of melted metal could be seen all over its body.

Louise felt her insides grow ice cold. She'd killed someone. Somehow her actions led her to immolating a person. There was simply no other explanation for the current events. Someone had to have passed by while she was in the middle of chanting and got caught in one of her spells. She was a murder now.

And then the corpse moved towards her.

"K-KYAAAAAHHHHH!" Louise let out a bloodcurdling scream. She tried to run, but her fear made her lose footing and she landed right on her backside. The corpse seemed to ignore her fear and continued to shamble forward, reaching a hand out to the scared pink haired girl.

The effect was instantaneous.

"M-MONSTER!"

"UNHOLY BEAST!"

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Most of the students scatted back and retreated, leaving Louise to fend for herself. Others like Kirche and Tabitha stayed behind, wands at the ready in case the undead zombie attacked. In truth, they too were paralyzed by fear. Things like the walking dead were impossible, even in the land of Tristain. Not even Void magic could make the dead come back to life.

"Miss Valliere!" Colbert stepped in front of the girl and held his wand up protectively, "Please step back! We don't know what kind of monster this is!"

Louise nodded meekly, though her attention remained rooted at the shambling abomination. It didn't have a weapon or anything else that looked threatening and its body proportions made her extremely doubt it would be able to carry anything tougher than a pebble lest it hurt itself. The only thing that could be considered threatening at all were the constant flames lapping at its body.

"Stay back!" Colbert yelled at it. It seemed to understand as it paused for a second before it continued shambling towards them, "I won't hesitate to hurt you if you harm any of my students!"

The zombie's mouth was moving up and down, but no words came out. Colbert tightened his grip on his staff and started chanting a flame spell, "Fire, lend thy kiss..." A small fireball came out of the staff and attacked the corpse.

No effect. It screamed in agitation when the flame made contact, but it gave no other sign of stopping at all. Colbert glared at it prepared a stronger spell.

It continued walking towards them for another few seconds before stopping. Louise held her breath when she saw the blackened eyelids staring at her. It continued to move its mouth up and down, but again no sound reached her ears. She forced herself to keep looking at its eyes before she saw it.

Through the blackened eyelids, she could make out small droplets of liquid. The flames extinguished them when they went past the sides of his face, but they were there. She realized what it was doing.

"Wait, professor!" Louise grabbed his sleeve suddenly, "I think...I think it's in pain. Th-There's flames all over its body and it screamed when you attacked it. I think all it wants it to put out the flame."

It was crying. It screamed in pain when Cobert attacked it and it reached a hand out earlier when it saw her. It never meant to attack her. Just as she realized this, the corpse fell to the ground in a heap and stopped moving.

"Ms. Vallere, are you sure?" He refused to take his eyes off the burning monstrosity. It may have been down now, but it could get up at any second, "We've never dealt with anything like this before."

"Yes, I'm sure!"

Colbert stared at her for a few seconds before calling out, "Ms. Tabitha, could you please lend us a hand then?" He implored the bluenette. Fire magic couldn't help it, but maybe wind could.

Tabitha nodded an affirmative and held out her staff, "Wind..." The word was followed by a wave of ice cold wind surrounding the area and making its way to its downed form.

Louise watched in amazement as the flames all over its body disappeared. She still flinched when she saw the raw red color of its skin, but at least the smell of burning flesh had disappeared. Without the burning flames coating its body, she managed to get a better look at it: Other than the reddish skin, patches of silver hair freckled its head. The various bits of melted metal were attached to its arms, legs and torso, most likely the remains or armour. There were no weapons to match, but she had a feeling it probably melted as well.

"Valliere, what are you doing!?"

"Ms Valliere, please stay back!"

Hesitantly, she stood up and made her way towards it. She could hear Colbert and Kirche yelling at her to stay back, along with her returning classmates, but she ignored them. She need to find out something.

"...Are you my familiar?" The question came out as more of a whisper than anything. Miraculously, it seemed to understand her as it raised its head up after she asked, "You are, aren't you?"

She couldn't see its expression. Even after the flames were gone, she could barely look at it in the face without feeling sick. The leathery exposed skin looked unnatural to her, like something out of a horror novel, and the residual smell of decay caused bile to rise to her throat.

Once again it moved its lips, and once again no sound came out. Louise looked down and grimaced. She knew what she had to do.

She needed to complete the ritual. She needed to prove that she was a mage.

Nervously, she grabbed the sides of its face. The skin felt odd and warm to the touch, as if the owner was still completely alive," My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière." She closed her eyes and leaned her head down, " Pentagon of the five elemental powers; bless this humble being, and make him my familiar."

Her lips made contact for only a second before she pulled back quickly. She expected the taste of rotten or burning flesh, but oddly enough she couldn't taste anything from the brief contact.

Louise had resigned herself to having a corpse for a familiar, but it seemed faith had something else in store for her. After the contract sealing, a blue light started to emanate from its left hand in the shape of various runes. It gave no indication that it noticed or cared about the writing, but then something else happened.

A white light engulfed her familiar before disappearing quickly. No longer was she holding onto a corpse, but a male possibly no older than she was. His skin was as pale as snow and his breathing was ragged, but he was undoubtedly alive.

It was only for a second, and Louise could swear she missed most of it, but it happened.

"What just happened?"

"No idea."

"Think she hired an actor to play all that?"

"Must've been. Louise the Zero wanted to put on a show since she couldn't summon a familiar."

Her classmates were whispering behind her back again. Amazing that even after all they'd seen, they would so easily dismiss everything as smoke and mirrors. Truthfully she wanted to join them. She didn't want to believe what she'd seen either.

"Ms. Valliere?"

Mr. Colbert went to her side and pulled her up gently. He looked down at the pale young man, or more specifically his left hand, and gave a curious stare. It...No, he was undoubtedly dead and burning not a few minutes ago, and now he looked to be as alive as the rest of them.

He had a feeling things weren't going to stop here.

* * *

**That's it for now. Sorry if anyone acted OOC or anything. Next chapter should be out soon since I'm pretty sure of what to do for the first few segments.**


	2. The Dead Rise Again

**Hey guys! Sorry this took a while to upload, but I've been doing "research" on renaissance-era events and behaviors by using very reliable sources such as the Assassins Creed series and watching The Borgias. I know, very historically accurate :p Anyway, the first thing I'd like to acknowledge are the comments in the reviews.**

**Fair warning: LONG Author's note ahead, so skip if you're not interested.**

**First of all, about the end of chapter 1. Many of you made comments that the ending makes no sense and that they were too quick to dismiss it as fault. Well, if you have that reaction, then I consider it mission fucking accomplished :D. It's supposed to look idiotic from a contemporary point of view, mostly because, in my personal opinion, most of the nobles are lazy, entitled, brats who refuse to see something for what they truly are. Studying from Renaissance attitudes, most of them would either label it as a fake or as a sign from God - though in this case it'd be the Founder Brimir. Now tell me; why would they think Louise, who they think up to this point is nothing but a worthless mage, be good enough to make a sign from their almighty when the obvious explanation - money and bribery - is present? Professor Colbert and some of the more experienced students like Kirche and Tabitha never make comments that they think its false, only those who've been spoon-fed their entire lives.**

**You also have to remember that they saw something completely alien for the first time. Fire burns, as Kirche knows, and it kills people. No one should be able to walk around while covered in a wreath of flames and looking like their entire body got stripped of its skin. Even in the land of Halgakenia, bringing back the dead is impossible. The Chosen Undead comes from a land so filled with misery that dying is bliss for most and a minor inconvenience when it does happen. In the academy death is distant, never touching save for news about how some far-off noble died with honor. Seeing death for the first time would of course catch a lot of denial.**

**And honestly, what would you think if you saw a burning corpse move, collapse, and then come back to life? Human beings are currently, by nature, very rational beings. If I see a werewolf across a dark alley turn into a human being, would I suddenly believe in the supernatural or would I try to rationalize it so my beliefs and status quo remain intact? Same gist here, since I'm assuming the Halgakenian's are humans and not just weirdly similar looking aliens. They saw something they didn't like, and they're trying to explain it away because they don't want to face the unknown. Hence why most of the nobles think war's an honorable affair and not just brutes fighting one another till the other stops moving entirely.**

**To all those who gave me criticism and Hellion: I appreciate the thought Hellion, but please know that I, like many amateur authors, actually LIKE criticism. As long as it's polite and not just a bunch of "you sucks" stringed together then I actually like it. So I say; keep criticism coming, but PLEASE stay polite and criticize the story only if you point out something wrong or amiss. If you don't like the story simply because you don't like it, then I'm not forcing you to read. An author has to be criticized for him to get better, not endlessly patted on the back like we're made of glass. I'm not going to stop writing simply because I did something wrong.**

**Now that that's done, I'd like to discuss the questions asked about the Chosen Undead and story changes.**

**1. Does the Chosen Undead have all his stuff? Yes, the Chosen Undead has all the weapons and stuff from the previous game. Does he have access to them? Mostly no, because currently his stuff is either unusable due to stats, melted off, or ditched back in the Kiln of the First flame. Don't fret; the rare stuff like the Queelag furysword and Moonlight greatsword are intact and he'll get them later. He just can't use them yet. I'll explain why in a bit.**

**2. What class was he? Honestly, does it really matter? The game is based on stats alone and there's nothing to stop a pyromancer from tanking with a broadsword. If you really want a definitive class then he's a mix between warrior and knight.**

**3. Everybody keeps going on about Abyss magic. Now honestly, what is Abyss magic? I've played the game and there are three magic's I know of: Miracles, Sorcery, and Pyromancy. Pyromancy requires no stats but it's the most easily accessible to any class and build, provided you have the money for it. Pyromancy is also nothing special since the world of Halgakenia has way more impressive fire magic. Miracles are also nothing unique since spells like healing, chameleon, or torchlight can be copied to well enough effect with existing magic's. Now the only thing even close to Abyss magic is Sorcery, especially with the Abyssal Soulmass spell and the fact that the element is untraceable. But other than that, it's really nothing special. Most of the spells here are plain on their own, but they have unique effects when combined. I'll show that as the story goes on.**

**4. Romance...is something I'm not sure about. One thing's for sure; not Louise. The relationship between her and the Chosen Undead will get closer, but not to the degree of romantic relations. They'll actually act like Master/Servant, Brother/Sister, or close friends depending on your point of view, but never romance. If there is romance at all, I'm not sure who to pick, so we leave that for now. **

**Also, don't forget that the Chosen Undead is alien to the concept of friendship, let alone romance. Considering he comes from a land where everybody's as likely to stab you as help you, and almost no one is completely honest about their intentions, a romantic relationship (which relies in complete trust in one another) will be very difficult for him.**

**On a side note, that means Julio's crush on Louise is unimpeded XD**

**6. Skills. No, he doesn't have access to the Sunlight Spear on account of not getting chance to offer the soul to Solaire's monument- woohps, I meant the Firstborn son of Gwyn's monument. He did have the Dragon head stone, but it's currently not available to him right now on account of it getting lost when he linked the fire. His fighting style generally involves slashing with a broadsword or longsword while using any spell that's available. Pyromancy and Mircacles are used way more than Sorcery.**

**5. And we're finally getting to it: Stats. The question everybody's asking. Now let's get this out of the way; is the Chosen Undead powerful? Yes. The Chosen Undead ended his particular story with 100 levels, the entire Artorias Knight Set, the Abyss Greatsword and Shield of Artorias, all spells in all categories, and many unused souls. Is he as strong as that now? Absolutely not. You have to understand that burning for eternity leads to some stat drops and equipment losses. By this point in the story he's been burning for at least 10 years minimum and he's been losing both skill and power to keep himself sane. In gameplay terms he's back to about Level 10 - 15 and most of his equipment is now burning slag. Will he stay this way? God no, the story would be fucking boring if that was the case. He'll get even stronger than his previous levels by later on, but he has to earn those skills back. So no insta-pawning Guiche like he's the fandom bitch like everyone else does, but the blond fop will still lose, just not instantly.**

**It's similar to starting a game sequel with the same character; he may lose most of his stats now, but he'll get even better stuff and powers by about mid-way or more. It's also one of the reasons I chose the 'Link the fire' ending rather than the 'Dark Lord' ending. Because honestly, why would someone who was crowned Lord of the world play servant boy to a spoiled noble? You either have to be an incredible tool or an incredibly self sacrificing individual to choose to link the fire, both of which make more sense for this fic's purposes.**

**Also, the world of Halgakenia will be darker than shown in canon, as the massive texts of info dump here show. I'll also be adding expanded and original events, though the core arcs and events will remain the same. Am I the only one who saw Foquet's attack as really improbable? A single show would not be enough to distract from the GIANT STONE GOLEM smashing up the school.**

**Lastly, some of you may disagree with how Louise is shown acting here. And I reply: Please don't forget how she treated Saito in both the Anime/Manga and Novel. She displays outright sociopathic behavior in refusing to treat Saito like a human being, despite numerous evidence to the contrary. At later points she even goes as far as to whip him for an entire night and then put a restraining collar on him; behavior that would never fly if their genders were reversed.**

**The thing is, and this is what I'm going to show right here, but this was close to how people acted in that time period or similar. Master's would beat their servants and the servant was advised to take it with a smile. Nobility literally believed that their life and very being were worth a hundred times more than that of a commoner or a servant. So if Louise acts like a jerk or a demanding brat, then that's because she's supposed to be shown as one.**

**So with all that done, let's start the story**

* * *

The clinic was a comfortable place to be. With a warm atmosphere (both mentally and physically, kind nurses that never raised a voice, and solitude that couldn't be found anywhere else in the academy, it was a popular place to do some quick thinking or, for certain blond immature playboy and red headed seductress, a quick place to steal quite a few firsts from quite a few people.

Architecture-wise it was exquisite, like most of the academy's rooms: Multiple beds lined both the left and right side, separated by thin curtains of varying colors of white. The roof was dotted with various open holes, most likely placed there to let the open sun seep into the wide room and make sure that the patients didn't die from lack of exposure. Various other things of import also dotted the room, such as torches and some paintings placed there for a calming effect. Any patient would count himself/herself lucky if they found themselves here.

Right now it was being used for its intended purpose; which is to say, for treating injured people. Usually the room would be animated with life in the rare cases someone got injured to the point that they had to be sent here, but the entire room was oddly desolate at the moment. Since injuries had to be severe in order to be sent here, the chanting of water magic usually echoed throughout the confines for hours on end, followed by the frantic scrambling of nurses as they tried to help in bandaging the wounds.

But now there was only silence. No nurse ran to and fro the different beds and no incantation graced the air around the sanctuary for healing. There was only one being, one man, one monster that stayed there, and none wanted or dared to go near him. They had no idea how to cure him, and so they did the best they could.

Basic treatment, and even the best healing magic's, but none of it made a difference. His skin was as white as snow but the burns stayed on his body, the light red patches scarring his skin and turning it into a grotesque puzzle of even the most seasoned veteran's would raise an eyebrow at. They had to make do with covering the injured parts with bandages and praying to the Founder that it would heal on its own. For there was certainly nothing they could do.

And this was where he stayed, alone but certainly not forgotten.

"...Where..."

For the first time in hours, movement blessed the still body. Pale eyelids were forced open to expose golden irises the color of flame. The young man said nothing, only staring in slight surprise at the unfamiliar surroundings and how, for the first time in years, he was not burning.

"What...are these...?" He looked up at his hands, staring oddly at the white pieces of comfortable cloth that were wrapped around them, "...Clothes?" He touched them warily, before recoiling back as if shocked. He could feel the injuries beneath them, remnants of his time in the Kiln. They still hurt, but not to the degree of before and certainly not as continuous. A small smile graced his lips at the fact.

It wasn't surprising that the Undead didn't know what bandages were. In a fight, he either took each and every injury till he reached the next bonfire or he drank an Estus flask while praying to every God that he knew wouldn't get off their lazy asses to help him that the enemy didn't suddenly decide to skewer him in the middle of it.

In the bonfire, injuries healed and fatigue disappeared. Sleep was unnecessary and resting was done solely when he wanted a break from the constant fighting...and dying. He gave a small, wry smile at that. Of course there was dying, but it was never for long. Every death was quick and he would find himself back in the nearest bonfire before he realized fully what had happened. Burning in the Kiln was an eternal torment.

Speaking of which, how did he get out? He remembered a voice calling out and a green gateway opening, but not much after that. Everything after that became a blur of pain and frustration. But that voice...something opened the way for him, and he had a pretty good bet that voice was involved. Now all he had to do was decide to seek her - he was pretty sure it was a female - out or get as far away as possible.

"Why can't I see him!?"

The Undead's head quickly snapped to the door at the end of the room. Behind it he could hear the frustrated voice of someone familiar, "He's my familiar, so I should be able to see him!" A stamping of feet accentuated the statement, "And even if he isn't then I need to decide that. But to do that, I need to see him for myself!"

Well...that didn't sound good. The voice was undoubtedly the one who saved him, but she didn't sound very...friendly. Frankly he would've settled for non-hostile, but that was obviously not an option. He was injured (odd in and of itself)and he was unarmed to boot (which he wished he at least still had). Even waking up in the Undead Asylum wasn't this bad, as he at least had a suit of armor to tide him over. Here he was naked save for a pair of loose dark pants that was obviously ill suited for fighting.

"Please, Miss Valliere! Please stop!" The rapid steps stopped, likely in following the command, "The...young man is injured right now and won't be awake for a few more hours. We couldn't heal all his injuries completely," More like couldn't heal any of them at all, but she wasn't going to tell her that.

He needed to get out of here. Straining his body as far as he could take it, he pushed himself off the bed. Already he could feel the weakness spread across his entire body, urging him to stay down. Off to the side of the bed he could see a loose cotton shirt draped across a small wooden chair. Grabbing it quickly, he wore it loosely over his upper body, making sure not to agitate the bandages too much.

"...What the...?" He stared in shock at his arms. He could ignore the paleness and even the weird looking pieces of cloth, but this...this was irregular. His arms were thin, way too thin. He hadn't noticed it earlier due to his lack of clothing, but it was all the more noticeable now. While he wasn't what one would call very muscled - that was Siegemeyer's department - he also had a fairly athletic build for fighting. Now he looked like a corpse...well, more than usual, at least.

This was no time to be wondering. With a slight shake of his head, he focused back on the task at hand.

Beside the chair were also a pair of boots, dusty from being out of use. Looking around the room for any other clothing - particularly of the more protective kind - he sighed and placed the boots against his feet, ignoring the irritation that spread immediately after doing so. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and he was worse off than one considering all his reserve souls were gone.

"Miss Valliere!"

Now to get out.

The young man blinked wearily, a searing headache punctuating his already weak body. All around him the bright lights winked in and out in rapid succession, and he was sure most of them weren't even real. Most likely they were just figments of his headache induced hallucinations and a coping mechanism to force him to stay down.

He refused to. His instincts had kicked into overdrive and he pushed himself to move forward, to get away from this unfamiliar place, no matter how safe it looked. Living in Lordran certainly taught him not to judge by appearances, no matter how majestic and safe an area seemed to be. The halls of the God's palace were undoubtedly more dangerous than the beat-down and ruined Firelink Shrine.

He looked around at his surroundings warily, slowly raising an injured hand to touch his right eye. It was covered by the same exact cloth that dotted both his arms and legs. He would have been tempted to remove it if not for the risk of further injury to himself. He would have to make do with one eye for seeing.

"I won't wake him up! I just need to see...if he's still alive." The voice echoed again from the door, though noticeably calmer this time around compared to before. Still, the Undead wasn't going to take a chance when he couldn't defend himself. Always offer one hand only when the other is armed, as he had learned from experience in dealing with Lautrec.

Across the side of the room he saw it: A window. Large enough to fit one person, and more than large enough to carry someone of his current stature. Taking a few pained steps, it didn't take him long to reach the plain window and pry it open by a few short inches. The sight of the sun caused him to flinch back slightly before he steeled himself and moved forward.

He wouldn't die here, not again.

* * *

"Miss Valliere, please wait for a moment." Professor Colbert sighed wearily and grabbed the raging pinkette, gently moving her away from the scared nurse, "Please

"Mu..." Louise could only look down and scowl when she felt Professor Colbert grab her arm gently and move her back to the seat. She didn't want to disrespect him, especially since he was the only one in this entire Academy to treat her with any respect as a mage and not just a problem child. That and the fact that he was the first to come to her rescue - however unnecessary as it was - when she cried out in panic.

The kindly professor gave a small smile before turning back to the middle aged nurse, "Please forgive Miss. Valliere. She is simply worried about the state of our...unique guest."

"I'm not-!" Louise bit back her retort. She wasn't worried, more-so...curious. Though she sounded sure earlier, there was doubt now; doubt that she had actually summoned a familiar. Summoning a human might have been odd, degrading even, but she could live with it if it proved her as a mage.

But no, apparently she'd summoned some kind of monster. She heard them earlier, heard their panic as his wounds refused to close and continued to fester like a corpse that refused to die.

**"Get me more bandages now!"**

**"Miss. Margaret, close up that wound!"**

**"I can't! The wound continues to burn even now!"**

**"Water! Give me water!"**

And behind that panic, she could hear their tone: Disgust, Fear, Uncertainty. All these things. Was her familiar so alien, so monstrous that they could do nothing? That the healing magic of water could nothing?

"Ahem, as I was saying," He turned back to the nurse, "Would you kindly check on our friend while I explain to miss Valliere here?" Explain what? Both of them wanted to ask, though neither voiced that question at loud, "If he proves well enough then it should be no problem for the young miss to visit hum, so long as she doesn't disturb him."

_'Disturb him? He's not the one who's being disturbed!' _Louise was tempted to blurt that out loud, but restrained herself at the last moment. She already lost too much of her already too little reputation today and she wasn't about to have even the servants talking about her today.

And oh, her dear classmates. She saw their eyes as his so called familiar was dragged to the clinic. Their mouths laughed, their lips turned up in smiles, and their fingers pointed both at her and the unmoving corpse as jeers and insults sprung forth from their tongues, _'Hypocrites...'_ And yet she saw them. Their eyes said it all; they were afraid. They didn't want to admit to what they saw, to cope with the fact that they had seen something completely alien. Nobility was nothing if mired in tradition, and change was the fear of all who followed.

But she wished she could join them. She too would have accepted the insults, if only to get the sights she'd seen and the memories she'd gained erased from her mind. Maybe it was pathetic of her to wish for this, but she didn't care. If she couldn't be a noble in magic, then she would be a noble in everything else and make her family proud of her - proud that she was a Valliere. Too long did her family suffer insults and jeers for her sake, even when they tried to hide it.

And now she was masking everything with anger. Demanding to enter the room, glaring at anything or anyone that was unlucky enough to pass her way. It was her way of dealing with things, which she found easier than crying or writing to Big Sis Cattleya about every serious problem that came to his mind. It was her way of coping, and it was easier for both her and everyone else since her pillow was usually the only source of frustration.

"Miss. Valliere...I imagine this must be...difficult for you," The voice of Professor Colbert jogged her out of her thoughts, "I must admit that this situation is quite...unique," Louise gave a wry smile at the word, and so did the old teacher, "Though I believe that everything will work out if we let it run its course."

"How so?" She asked back glumly.

"The Founder always finds a way," He shrugged back nonchalantly with a smile, "He is the source of all magic and the one who allowed us to be as we are now. I'm sure that whatever this is," He waved a hand through the air, "will pass over and things will go back to normal."

"Hmm."

The Professor sighed. Clearly his attempt to cheer up the young Valliere wasn't working, though he had little thought it would succeed in the first place. She was always the one who never smiled, unless it was a fake one that was required of her. He couldn't blame the girl for it, considering all she'd been through in the past year alone, but it saddened him nonetheless.

"If nothing else," He started up again, "You have to admit that this event is interesting and could prove to be invaluable."

"Professor, I fail to see anything interesting about the situation," Louise bit back sharply, "With either outcome I lose something. If he's not my Familiar then I have to repeat the ritual, a stroke of failure that has never happened before and probably never will," She laughed bitterly, "And if he is my Familiar, then what? Do I explain to my parent's that I'm such a failure that I failed to summon even a decent familiar, something even the weakest mage should be capable of?" She gripped her wand tightly, almost as if she planned to snap it in half, "Or that I summoned some kind of monstrous corpse that can't even heal itself? Oh yes, my family will be so proud of me!"

Colbert was hardly surprised at the outburst. He didn't fail to see how excited the girl got when she asked him about the Familiar Summoning Ritual months ago. This was her one chance to prove she could be a decent mage, and she summoned something so alien that he was hesitant to call it successful even with the theories he already had.

"Miss Valliere-"

The sounds of the wooden doors of the clinic being flung open interrupted whatever he was about to say. Both teacher and student looked up to see the panicked form of the old nurse looking out of breath and hyperventilating.

"Professor Colbert, Ms. Valliere! He's gone! The window's been pried open and he's gone!"

That...was not good.

* * *

Siesta considered herself a practical girl. Her current goal right now was to work in order to send money back to her family, and her long term goal was to find a good husband, settle down, and have a big happy family. Sure she might have entertained thoughts of fancy; wished she was spirited away by a charming prince or to serve and fall in love with a kind, handsome noble straight out of a fairy tale (or romance novel, as her case may be).

Things like these happening were obviously impossible, but it didn't stop her from indulging in fantasies at least for a while. The life of a servant was ever so dull and exciting events ranged from rare to near impossible. Many of the servants in the castle, not just her, wished for something exciting to spice up their lives and break the monotony of cooking, cleaning, serving, and mental/physical abuse that was expected of them to take.

Well, Siesta certainly regretted wishing for excitement right now.

When she thought of excitement she meant something harmless but energizing. Many nobles - mostly males who wanted to regale young maiden's off their feet - boasted danger was something that they were used to dealing with, and Head-chef Marteu called them 'Annoying brats that wouldn't know danger if it bit them right in the ass' in response.

In front of her was a sight most surprising: A figure, covered in loose clothing and bandages in many parts of his body. Siesta wondered if it was a decoration or a corpse before she saw movement. He was breathing, but just barely. Every breath came out as forced and grew weaker with every passing breath that passed through his parted lips.

She certainly felt like this was dangerous.

Swallowing her nervousness, she stepped forward slowly. The hallway she was in was completely abandoned, save for the occasional flicker of the torch. The figure contrasted greatly with the brown wood and dark stone, with both his white hair and skin making him similar to a ghost. Personally, Siesta wondered if he was one and was half-tempted to run away in fright. No matter how much she wished, she couldn't. Her identity as a person would be compromised if she allowed someone to die simply because of her own fright.

"Um...hello?" No response. Taking another breath, she kneeled down slowly and shook his exposed shoulder slowly, "Excuse me...please wake up."

Slowly, figure's head turned to look towards her. Siesta's eyes widened slightly as she saw the color of his eyes; bright yellow, like the center of a flame. Despite the metaphor, however, she couldn't see any intensity in them. All she could see was exhaustion, a want to close and never re-open again.

He looked to be about the same age as her, though whether he was older or younger by a year was too hard to see. The loose clothing certainly didn't help in this regard, and neither did the bandages that covered a a majority of his body. The only exposed parts of his body she could see were parts of his arms, his upper left chest, and his entire face sans his right eye and forehead, which were covered in a thick bandage as well.

"Who...are-" He didn't get to finish. His eyelids drooped down and the tightly closed lips parted slightly, making a soft breath and interrupting his words, "Where's..." He paused, looking down and closing his eyes again. Siesta waited a few moments, but he didn't make another comment.

"U-Um, please don't talk!" The frantic maid grabbed him by the shoulders yet again and shook him softly, trying to rouse him from his impromptu slumber, "Do you need help? Um, how about food or, or -Oh, I don't know how to deal with this!"

She wasn't prepared for situations like this! She was a scullery maid! She was meant to serve food or clean up annoying corners of the campus. Treating injuries or dealing with people who appeared to be on the verge of death was NOT in the job description. But what could she do? She wasn't about to leave someone who could die if there was something she could do. Her family and experiences taught her to be better than that.

"FAMILIAR!"

Oh no, this was it! The figure in front of her most likely died while she was so busy panicking and now she was being punished for letting someone die when it was in her power to help! _'Oh please, forgive me Founder Brimir!'_ She'd heard the tales from her mother when she was younger. Of the demons from the void who came after those who stared death in the eyes and did nothing to prevent it. And now she was going to be dragged into the void as punishment!

Barely preventing herself from fainting, she turned to the source of the loud voice...and felt all the terror leave her at the sight of the small pinkette stomping over to the prone figure.

"Familiar, what are you doing here!?" The small pinkette all but ignored her and stomped over to the prone form of the unconscious teen(?), "We've been looking everywhere for you!" She continued to rant and yell at the white haired Undead, completely ignoring the fact that he wasn't answering and likely didn't hear a word she said.

_'This is the demon of legends?' _Siesta wondered silently to herself. She expected monsters clad in black armor that sucked the souls of people to drag them into the darkness of the void to offer to the giant snake demon. Not a short, pink haired girl that looked like she could barely carry a pack of clothes, let alone the souls of people she was going to damn to eternal punishment.

The young maid could only watch in bemusement as tiny pinkette pulled the pale young man's arm and attempted to force him from his sitting position; an effort which was met with no success considering her lack of upper body strength and, presumably, being unused to physical hardship and labor.

"You, maid!" Louise turned to the staring maid and pointed, "Take this," She pointed to the prone Undead, "and bring him to my room at the top of the west(?) tower. And be quick about it!" She all but demanded.

Siesta might have commented on the fact that she was mistreating someone who looked to be at death's door, or maybe that carrying someone to a room while they're injured wasn't such a good idea, but she kept her mouth shut. As much as it pained her to put someone at risk simply because a noble asked her to, this was the way of the world, and she was simply a part of it.

* * *

The first thing the Chosen Undead felt when waking up was the feeling of cold stone pressing against his face. While normal people might have found this worrying or irritating, he found it to be the complete opposite.

Too long had he wished to feel the cool stone and mucky ground on his skin again. The only respite from his supposed great quest was when he was able to find a bonfire and feel the wounds leave his body and fatigue melt away. Firelink shrine, the bonfire he had most visited, had neither warm beds nor comforting sights. And yet he had found himself loving it all the same.

Feeling more of his energy come back to him, he stood up with purposeful slowness, making sure to once again check the area for traps or blades coming out of walls ala Sen's fortress.

The area he was in was small, or at least small in comparison to the previous area's he was previously. He was obviously in a bedroom of some sort, though normal sized since the decorated bed, while large, looked to be made for someone of his height and stature. The small table that was stationed off to the side helped support this claim.

The walls that surrounded him were covered in marble and various decorations, and he could see a gilded window off to the side that led to a spectacular view of the evening sun. Unlit torches dotted some parts of the wall, so the only source of light he could glean off the small area were from the outside.

To be perfectly honest, it reminded him of the many rooms he had traversed through when passing by Anor Londo, only smaller and less gold-tinted. The recognition brought with it two things: The first was caution, and the second was relief.

Caution because it probably meant he was back in the station's of the God's. Smaller or not, the similarity in design couldn't have been pure coincidence and it probably meant something. And relief because, for whatever the God's may have had in store for him, he had escaped. Escaped the Kiln and escaped his torment of eternal flames.

When he woke up at that previous area he was unsure. Maybe he was simply hallucinating and he had truly gone insane. But no, he had his faculties and, for good or ill, he was back in familiar ground.

The creaking of the wooden door across from his position signaled to him that he wasn't alone. He saw her immediately when she poked her head in, _'...Young girl?'_ He couldn't help but be surprised. Undead cared not for age, seeing as they were all the same in Unlife, so it wasn't odd for him to make friends with the mid-20's Laurentius or the late 40's Siegmeyer. Still, it was his first time seeing someone so...young.

If he had to describe her, he would call her petite and childlike, qualities he had never seen on anyone during his time in Lordran. Even the teenage Rhea and the Ambiguously-aged Dusk of Oolacile didn't have anything to her in regards to youth. Furthermore, the strawberry pink hair that adorned her head was a color he had never seen before. Purple and silver maybe, but not pink.

"You're awake!" For a moment, she almost seemed relieved. The surprised smile on her face was quickly replaced by anger, however, "It's about time! The Professor and the nurses thought you had gone off and gotten yourself killed!"

The Undead gave no response, causing Louise's face to turn red, "Hey, answer me!" She stomped over to him and gave her trademark scowl, "What were you thinking, going off like that? The nurses spent an hour trying to find you!"

"...Huh?" He could only mumble and stare blankly at the raging pinkette, tilting his head to the side as a show of confusion. This girl's voice was the one he had heard before...so where were the commands? The trickery? Every person he'd met would either attempt to have him do something or do something for him (which happened very rarely). Considering how familiar she acted when entering the room, she must've been its owner or at least a resident. So that would mean she was the God or entity leading it, right?

"I'm asking you why you left the clinic and started wandering around!" She stamped on the ground again, "Your bandages were just put on and you thought it was a good idea to walk around?"

Whoever she was, she certainly seemed angry for her small size. Human's in Lordran weren't very tall, with the God's towering over them and even the mortals simply blessed with power like the Black Knights or the Knights of Berenique being heads and shoulders taller than even the strongest of his kind. By contrast, the girl was shorter than him, though not extremely so. It was hard to properly compare due to his missing eyesight, but he could hazard a guess that he was less than a head taller than her, maybe about half a head or less.

So it was either she was human like him or the entity's started getting shorter in the year's he had been caged.

"Cli...nic? Ban...da-ges?" He stared down at his hands again. Were these cloth things on his hands called clinics or bandages? It certainly wasn't something he'd seen before. Where were the Estus flasks and healing miracles? These pieces of cloth, while comfortable, didn't seem very sensible considering the other available options.

"...Are you an idiot?" The anger in her voice had disappeared, only to be replaced by disbelief, "Oh Founder, please don't tell me I didn't summon who's mentally challenged!" She lamented quite loudly.

"..." While Louise was busy trying to examine her life, the confused Undead simply continued to stare in wonder at the odd pieces of cloth, "Ban...dage..." These things were alien to him. What were they? A kind of healing talisman? Maybe armor? He couldn't feel any of his statistics increase when wearing them. Even the weird clothing the pinkette wore added slightly to her attunement and intelligence, at least as far as he could see-

"Hey, are you listening to me?"

"...Mm."

Louise sighed, _'Dear Founder, what have I gotten myself into?' _One could practically hear her facepalming. This was what she was afraid of? The so called monster that was immune to healing magic? The Burning corpse that caused such a stir? He seemed less of a threat and more of an annoyance. Sure he was covered in bandages, but not to the point that he looked like a Mummy (another monster from her books), and the burns were covered well enough with the white cloth that they couldn't be seen unless she suddenly ripped the bandages off him.

She had put on a brave and demanding front when she saw him because showing fear was the only other option and she'd rather prostate herself before Kirche before any hint of that emotion ever crossed into her face (unless it was because of her mother, in which case it would've been completely justified). But now she felt like an idiot for even bothering, since said 'monster' seemed to be mentally damaged.

He even looked close to her in age, which made said deficiencies even more insulting in hindsight.

"Do you even know why you're here?" Another blank stare followed before he slowly shook his head left and right in reply, "Then I guess I have to explain what's happening...though Familiar's usually don't have to be told this," Then again, Familiar's usually weren't human in appearance, or monster's which looked oddly similar.

And so she explained. The Springtime Familiar Summoning Ritual, the summoning, his appearance (though she made sure to exclude the little detail of her screaming), being taken to the Clinic, and finding him fainted on that hallway.

"...Familiar?" He finally asked after a moment of contemplation. Louise noted that his voice had an airy and tired tinge to it whenever he spoke, like he wasn't used to talking too much.

"Yes, a Familiar," Louise nodded, glad that she was finally getting somewhere, "Every self respecting mage, such as myself-" she added unnecessarily, "requires a familiar in order to prove both their right to magic and as a form of worship to our Founder Brimir. Every Familiar is bonded to the Mage and each of them are supposed to assist their Master in whatever task is given them."

The pale Undead nodded to show that he was listening.

"Familiar's are more than just a common household pet, however," Louise raised her Index finger for emphasis, "They are the Mage's main companion and it is their role to follow the Mage from their summoning up to their Master's death, regardless of circumstances," Another nod came from him, though noticeably more hesitant this time around, "Each Mage has a corresponding element and their familiar is usually connected-"

She stopped. The Undead gave her another tilted head, urging her to continue, but she remained silent. The reason she stopped wasn't due to lack of knowledge, but shame. If each and every familiar connected to a specific element, then what did her summoning him mean? The rational (and hopeful) part of her mind tried to point to him being on fire earlier and that it was proof of her being in the fire element.

But a larger, more cynical part of her told her she had failed again. The person in front of her was certainly not burning and human in appearance. The jeers of her peers echoed back into her mind, "Faker, Pathetic, Pretender," all this and many others were leveled at her earlier by almost the entire audience present.

"Am I...your Familiar?" Louise's eyes widened when she heard the unspoken question uttered so casually.

"W-Well, I suppose so!" She bit back with a slightly red face, "Could there be any other explanation for me summoning you?"

Another long moment of silence erupted between the two of them. Louise wondered to herself if he had slipped into another fainting episode before she saw the tiniest of nods shake his head.

"...Yes," He stood up again and bowed, though it looked comical and forced since his body couldn't bend too much from the amount of bandages covering his body and head, "...I am...your Familiar..." He paused. What was he supposed to call her? "I am...your Familiar...small lady?" He finished lamely.

Wrong choice of words. Already he could see her petite form shaking with rage from hearing the deriding insult, "Call me MASTER!" She stood up and bounded towards him, pulling him by the scruff of his loose shirt (and ignoring his injured state) so they were eye to eye, "You will be called Familiar and I will be called Master! Is that understood?"

The Familiar nodded, though he personally thought her reaction was a bit too overboard simply because she disagreed with a name. Even Siegmeyer's angry charge didn't compare to the anger this girl threw around like fireballs. It boggled him how she could act like this and yet have no intention to harm.

"Good!" With that done, Louise finally felt a load leave her shoulders. She had resolved the situation, though whether taking him/it (she couldn't be sure if he was human or some kind of morphing creature) was a victory or not. Undoubtedly rumors would spread tomorrow when everybody saw her odd familiar follow her around.

She'd have to deal with that tomorrow, "Familiar, prepare for the first task." Another nod followed her statement. Louise sighed in relief with the fact that her new Familiar could, at the very least, comprehend basic orders.

Without missing a beat, Louise made her way to the wardrobe and took out her sleeping wear, stripping out of her school clothes in the presence. Her Familiar said nothing, as stripping clothing even in the middle of a fight was a tactic used by many Undead and modesty was far from his concern at this point. Though he did wonder slightly why she was changing from a statistically superior set of clothing to an even thinner piece of cloth that offered even less protection, he kept it to himself. Far be it for him to question her logic. Maybe there was an effect that would only activate when she wore it? Lautrec did the same with permanent jump enchantment that worked for him alone.

"Here, take these clothes and wash them," She threw her recently removed clothing rather haphazardly onto a basket filled with other clothes, "The servant's must have forgotten to come up here earlier and I don't want to wait for them to come back later.

Again her Familiar nodded, sauntering over to the basket and pulling it up with some slight difficulty. With a last bow to his master, he turned and made his way to the exit.

"Hey wait, I thought your hair was gray?" She called out suddenly.

The Familiar turned back to her with a curious stare, one hand reaching up to grasp a lock of his hair while the other continued to carry the basket, "...Ash and smoke...covered it." He replied.

Louise took that explanation well enough and waved him off. With a deep yawn, she turned to the large bed and plopped down gratefully on top of it. She needed a good days rest before she dealt with the events tomorrow.

* * *

**Oh, and something unique I found: Dusk of Oolacile has long golden hair and pointed ears in her official artwork, compared to the human like appearance in her in-game model. Now who else do we know has long golden hair and pointed ears with a penchant for magic? I think I can use this :)**

**Unlike this chapter, I promise the next one will come very soon. Cross my heart and hope to die :D**

**Anyway, this chapter and the next one are just giant info dumps for the most part. The plot and original elements will pick up right after the next chapter.**


	3. Familiar troubles

**God I'm tired. Anyway, here's the third chapter for Dark of Zero. After this the plot will pick up and I can start adding more to the actual story rather than more world building and Guiche dickery.**

**Also, I did some more research/replayed the game and I found a few more Abyss magic's other than the Homing Soulmass. Still, most of it is just a black re-coloring of existing spells and nothing truly unique. He does have access to them, but again still has no tools to allow use. **

**Oh, and I wanted to ask something. Why does everybody act like the Chosen Undead is supposed to be some kind of Herculean figure? The whole point of the game is basically to show that the Chosen Undead is weaker than 99% of everything else in the world and that he relies on his brains rather than his physique. The best builds in the game rely on versatility and most if not all his strength comes solely from his gear. Unlike most RPG's where the main character could fight in his undies and beat the end-boss if he grinded, the CU would get demolished by even the random mook's if his strategy and and gear weren't up to snuff for the current task at hand.  
**

**That's not to say he's not strong. Gameplay-wise there's nothing stopping you from backstabbing through armors with your fist or parrying giant swords bare-handed, and this will reflect into the story well enough. Still, even with that it's obvious that the Undead's strength relies mostly in his tactics and sheer tenacity rather than being able to tank everything without problems. There's a reason the games tagline states "Prepare to Die". He does at least have the benefit of somewhat augmented strength even in his weaker state.  
**

**That and the Chosen Undead fights like...well, he fights like an asshole. And no, I don't mean in the attitude kind of way since fighting fairly in Dark Souls is tantamount to placing a giant "Kill me" sign on top of your head. I'm talking about the fact that his fighting technique basically boils down to slashing left and right, smashing up or down, or stabbing forward and backward depending on the weapon. No finesse, no training, and I'm pretty sure I can do more complex stabs and slashes. He basically fights like an untrained noob and it's only his shield and dodge roll ability that saves him a lot of the time. Compare his swordplay to the character's from the Assassins Creed series or Dragon Age and you can see he's horribly lacking. He'll improve on this as the story goes, along with losing the annoying habit of pausing mid-sentence.  
**

**Now to answer some worries/questions others have:  
**

**Nix's Warden - He doesn't actually look like a corpse. Though he states that he thinks he looks like one, in reality he just looks malnourished/thin rather than out and out emaciated. It's a bit of a shock for him since even the thinnest body-build in Dark Souls is obviously chiseled, so he exaggerated his new condition. Besides, in animeland being malnourished/thin equals being slender, at least appearance-wise.  
**

** Necrofantasia - Yes, in the early parts of the story the Gandalfr powers act as a sort of crutch to allow him to fight till he gets access to his items again. And I'm surprised you're asking how he gets better stats, because I thought that would be obvious: Using souls from the creatures he kills to upgrade himself. Yes, the Chosen will kill people in the story, so please step away if you have a problem with that. Death isn't an alien thing in the Tsukaima world and many characters do it: Agnes is shown doing it at least twice, Colbert many times in his backstory, Saito when he shot down people with his Zero, and Louise killed God knows how many when she summoned that Void abyss. Though I will be keeping it to killing mostly monster's from the countryside or other hostile human's. Named character's like Guiche are safe since they play roles in the plot, same as Dark Souls with its numerous NPC's.  
**

**And he still has a ton of leftover souls in his bottomless box/pack, provided he can get to it. If he manages to get to them then there's nothing stopping him from powerleveling to a pretty good level.  
**

**Blinded in the Bolthole - As I said before, Louise is intended to be shown as a brat here. Also, I forgot to add a line or so justifying herself since I was so tired: Basically she sent him out because she thought that was as healthy as he would get. He was talking, he was having no episodes, and he outright says he's her new Familiar and responded to her orders. That and she overheard their conversation about him not healing from his wounds even with magic, so she thinks it's pointless to baby him when they already tried and failed.  
**

**That and she doesn't like staying in close proximity to him for too long; somewhat disgusted even. She still has recent memories of what he did and she can't even be sure if he's as human as he appears or some kind of cloaked monster. Would you be comfortable staying in the same room if you were in her place? She sent him out because it established her place as the Master and allowed her to get away from him without being too overt about it.  
**

**Also, did you forget that Louise was thoroughly unlikeable early in the plot? When Saito explains he's from earth her response basically amounts to "Don't know, don't care. You're my bitch now." and then she collars the poor bastard and whips him when he complains. She's also a giant hypocrite, seeing as she calls Saito a pervert and yet seems to have the same sexual tastes are her whip-wielding older sister, if her daydreams are anything to go by. She didn't start becoming sympathetic till about the Viscount Wardes arc in the original sources.  
**

**Last note: The Chosen may seem like a...retard, I guess, when you see how he acts here. I liken him to a soldier coming back with major PTSD; he's not used to being in such a crowded and safe environment since fighting is all he knows. He also seems clueless about the most basic things because he has nothing to go on but Lordran's convoluted standards. Again he'll learn and adapt more as the story goes.  
**

* * *

"Familiar...?" The pale Undead set down the basket and repeated the words in his mouth again, staring at the strange marking on his left hand, "Expected...worse..." He touched the markings carefully and traced the strange writing. It was unfamiliar to him, written in a vocabulary he had no familiarity with. Well, it was either that or his time in the Kiln had fried his brain to the point that he became unable to read. He sincerely hoped it was the former.

When he had been saved from his eternal torment, he knew it came with a price. Everything came with a price, he knew that from experience. And yet, was the price he was given so terrible? To be a servant who simply helped someone and defended if necessary? He had expected far worse. Maybe being sent to fight monsters in the far off land of Boleteria (impossible considering his damaged/missing equipment)? Or, if fate were being ironic, being told to be the new keystone in a prison of eternal frost?

No, this was something he could live with. Maybe if he pleased his so called Master well enough he could avoid being sent into eternal torment again and actually find the peace of death everybody else seemed to have gotten.

Wait, who was everybody else again? Damn it, his memory was still fuzzy. One moment he could clearly recall them and the next he was back to being an empty shell devoid of memories. Maybe some time spent away from the fire would allow him to get a stronger hold on his memories. He had no idea where they were now.

And what was wrong with his voice? While he usually never talked, it didn't mean it was impossible for him. Right now he was having a hard time speaking and he had to pause mid-sentence since his throat felt strained. Most likely it was the constant screaming he did for a better part of 10 years that caused his voice to go out. Now it sounded airy and unfocused. Gwyndolin would've been laughing his cross-dressing snake ass off if he saw him now.

But first he had to deal with this first obstacle; the laundry. Or rather, what exactly was laundry? It sounded like some kind of enchantment to be put on armor. Was that what his Master wanted him to do? If so, then he had to go back and explain to her that he wouldn't be able to do that without any of his souls or embers on him. He was able to enchant weapons and equipment well enough, but the lack of bonfires and souls meant that knowledge was pointless.

But to do said 'laundry', he had to first find a way out of his current predicament. Apparently his master trusted his navigational abilities well enough that she trusted him to get where he needed to be without proper directions. While he appreciated the fact that his master was willing to treat him like a regular human being, it also bothered him that the entire campus confused him more than the entirety of Blight-town and Anor Londo combined.

"Ah, it's you!"

Siesta gave a shocked look at the sight of the young man from earlier. The last time she saw him he looked to be at death's door. Now...okay he still looked pretty bad, but at least he didn't sound like he was about to stop breathing anytime soon, even if his appearance indicated otherwise.

"Its...me?" He pointed to himself hesitantly with a confused look on his face.

"O-Oh, I meant you're okay!" She bowed and gave a relieved smile, "I found you earlier in the hallway and wondered why Miss. Valliere wanted you in her room," She shook her head left and right, "Well, you're here now so that means you're alright."

"Um...yes," He could do nothing but nod in agreement at her energetic words, "You...found me?" He ventured to ask.

"Hmm? Oh yes, I did," She gave a relieved sigh, "I found you barely conscious in the school hallways not too long ago. Most of the student's had already retired to their dorms by the time I found you, so I really wasn't surprised no one had picked up on you being there earlier."

She was the one who found him earlier? Strange, his new master said nothing about another person finding him before she did. She told him that she found him, but gave no explanation about how he got to her room. Perhaps he should have asked.

"I'm sorry, I'm being rude. I haven't introduced myself yet," She suddenly gave a curt bow, "My name is Siesta and I come from the village of Tarbes, but please just call me Siesta. Pleased to meet you!"

This girl was...energetic. He hadn't seen such movement since meeting Solaire, "It's...nice to meet...you," Stupid voice breaking, "I'm...Familiar." Well that introduction flopped. Still, it was technically his name now, even if it sounded more awkward than Frampt's cheering.

"Familiar?" The maid gave him a questioning look, "Well, you are familiar to me since I saw you earlier," She seemed to miss his point, "but that's not really what I'm asking. What's your name?"

"...Name...don't have..." The Familiar stared down with a melancholic expression on his face. He always went by a moniker since he woke up from back in the Undead Asylum. Going from the simple "Undead" to the slightly more complicated "Chosen Undead" or even "Lord" for some cases. Even those who called him friend simply called him...well, "Friend". Right now the moniker he was given was "Familiar", and that was what he would be called.

"Huh what do you- Oh!" Siesta started fidgeting with her fingers, "I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend!" She bowed deeply, "Please forgive me for offending!"

"You didn't...offend?" The Undead Familiar looked uncomfortable at the constant bowing the maid did. He had never seen someone apologize so profusely...in fact, he couldn't recall anyone apologizing to him at all. Even Rhea gave simple thank you's rather than apologies for her previous behavior. This girl apologizing so hard when she did nothing wrong was making him worry.

People with no names were very rare, but they were unfortunately all too real in the world of Halgakenia. While others considered being servant's shameful, they were practically nobles in comparison to slaves. While slavery was officially considered illegal in all the lands, it was very much an open secret that many nobles from various countries still practiced it.

Being a slave was a fate worse than death, as many who had escaped told. You weren't treated like a person, but an object. Your entire being belonged to your master and the idea of resisting was an impossible thought. And the worst came from master's who didn't even bother naming their slaves: Naming them implied they had an identity, which even the ones who did bother giving names preferred to crush any idea of.

On an ironic note, the 'brutish and war-like' lands of Germania was possibly the only country that absolutely refused to tolerate slaves, as they considered the objectification of even an enemy to be insulting. While they did deal in the business of death and war, slavery was completely unjustifiable no matter the situation.

The person in front of her was undoubtedly a slave, though whether he was one currently or he escaped was unknown to the young maid_. 'Wait, that noble was looking for him earlier, which means...' _ Siesta's eyes widened as the thought reached her mind. If there was one flaw Siesta had, it was her hyperactive imagination. Everybody chided her not to let fantasies run wild in her head, but evidently she never took their words to heart.

_'Is he an escaped slave? A current one? Is the young mistress so powerful that she can afford to have a slave and flaunt him so openly- Wait, was that why he was fainting on the hallway!? Oh no! I caused someone to be brought back to slavery! Oh please, forgive me~!'_

So first she was bowing and now she kept looking around like she was stuck in the middle of Sen's fortress? This girl was odder than Solaire, and that was saying something, "Um...Siesta?" The name felt odd on his tongue. Was it Vinheim or Carim in origin? Louise's sounded similar to to Thorolund naming, and yet this one was confused him.

"Uwah!" The dark haired girl bounced back and nearly fell off her feet as the Undead's words interrupted her, "W-What?"

"Can you...please help-"

"Of course!" Siesta immediately had a determined look on her face and held the pale young man's hand tightly, "I apologize for sending you back into your horrible circumstances earlier! I promise to do all in my power to help you in whatever you ask!"

She seemed eager. Oh well, it was an admirable attitude to have, "I need...to do laundry..." He picked up the dropped basket and held it up, "I...don't know how..."

"...Eh?"

* * *

"Uuuuu, I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions!"

This was the third time she'd said that, and it was the third time the Undead once again nodded to show he had no problem with it; if only because of the fact that she was graciously doing the laundry - which apparently consisted of washing clothes with soap and water over a basin of water - and told him he didn't need to help at all.

He had tried to help, seeing as it was the task given to him, but that ended up in a horrible failure. I'll spare the gory details, but it included quite a few scowls, grunts, and the required removal of one of his arm bandages (which the long sleeves of the shirt thankfully covered up) due to too much moisture. Siesta was kind enough not to comment or ask when she saw the burns on his arms, though she did feel some slight nausea when she saw them.

With nothing to do, the Undead simply had to busy himself with other things. Since picking apart his bandage in the vain hope his injuries would disappear had gotten old pretty fast, he made do with paying attention to everything else around the area.

The first thing was the most obvious; two moons. While he really didn't have any point of reference, what with Lordran being a moonless land, he did recall hearing at some point that the land of Astora had one sun and one moon. Did every land have different constellations? Intriguing. All things considered, the twin moons of opposing colors were very pretty to look at. Maybe that was all they needed to be.

The second thing was the fact that he saw no sign of miasma or corruption in the ground. While he was aware that Lordran was the last place for good comparisons, he was also under the impression that all the lands had at least minor corruption; even the most holy land of Thorolund, despite being the most pure place in the world (according to them), suffered from infertility and decay. The place, Tristain she called it, had none of that. Was this some kind of paradise or sanctuary? Did the corruption when he linked the flame?

"So...Mister Familiar," She waited for him to nod at the impromptu name before continuing, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but which land do you come from?" She paused her scrubbing and made a quick pointing gesture at him, "Your appearance marks you as a foreigner, if I'm not mistaken."

Ah yes, that was the last thing: His appearance. Before he chose to link the flame his hair and eyes were dark in color and his skin had a slight tan to it. Now his skin and hair had lost all pigmentation, instead displaying an unhealthy white and his eyes burned an abnormal shade of bright yellow. His physical structure was also completely different from before; he was much thinner than before and his movements felt more sluggish as a result. The months he spent sacrificing souls to augment his strength, speed, and various other attributes had effectively gone to waste.

He also looked younger. While he rarely ever spent time in a healthy human form, 'Humanity' being expensive and all, the rare times that he did he found himself with a face that appeared to be at least in his early twenties with a physique to match. Now the maid commented that she looked pretty close to him in age, though she couldn't tell how exactly due to the bandage covering parts of his right side. His age didn't really matter to him so long as he could keep fighting.

A souvenir from his time spent in the Kiln most likely. The color of his eyes reminded him too much of the burning center of flame he'd spent the past decade memorizing over and over and the skin color was probably the curse of his Undeath doing its best to keep his body intact and failing. He couldn't explain his reduced age, though if he could hazard a guess he'd say it was the Kiln slowly killing him. He wasn't immortal like the God's and he suffered for it. Even after he had gotten free, the God's of Lordran made sure he would never forget them.

"I'm from...Lordran..." He flinched as the name passed from his lips again. Oh how he hated that place, "What...about you?"

"Oh, I was born here in Tristain, but my great- grandfather was apparently a foreigner who came from some far-off land," She replied cheerfully, "The village I live in is just a small one that's on the countryside, away from all the big cities." Her scrubbing slowed, "Strange, I've never heard of the country of Lordran from before. Is it far away?" She asked curiously.

He really didn't want to talk about that God forsaken (ironic considering the name) place. He needed to change the subject, "Tristain?" Now that was a point of interest. She'd called this place by that name before, but he didn't get a chance to ask her on it yet, "Where...is Tristain?" He really needed to do something with his voice.

"Oh, well I'm not really sure," She said with some slight shame, "Servant's really don't get much education, so I only know the basic information." She placed her fingers atop her chin and adopted a 'thinking' pose, "Um, well...Tristain is located east of Albion and is separated by the sea. Germania lies to the east of Tristain while Gallia is to the south, and both are connected by land. Romalia is even further to the south, though I'm not exactly sure where." She went back to scrubbing, "And please don't ask me for their history because I don't know. Only the nobles and scholar's get education on it."

He knew none of these lands. When his master had first referred to mages, he thought that this place might have been Vinheim's school of sorcery. But apparently this was some other land called Tristain, with even more different lands connected to them. This was getting too odd.

"...I'm lost..." He couldn't stop himself from blurting it out. Siesta gave a pitying look at the bandaged Familiar and patted him on the arm sympathetically. While he did clarify that he wasn't a slave, he also made it clear that he was serving Miss. Valliere in some capacity as her Familiar. Siesta really couldn't comment on his situation since the complications of being a Familiar were unknown to her - and indeed to all foreigners. He was alone here, but he at least had a second lease in his Unlife.

The two of them stayed in a comfortable silence afterwards, the only sound interrupting them between were of the clothes being scrubbed and wrung one by one by the efficient maid. He'd offered to help earlier, but that only resulted in him getting one of his bandages wet and being forced to remove it. Siesta refused to even let him touch the basin afterwards, half in fear of his health and half in fear of having to see the deep burn that grazed his right arm.

"Why...are you...here?" The sullen Familiar suddenly blurted out. It was a simple question to ask: Everyone had a reason for being in their place. Every person he'd met along his journey had a stated reason for being where they were. This girl undoubtedly had one as well.

Siesta gave him an odd look for the impromptu question but decided to answer all the same, "I came here because I want to help my family," She wrung another piece of undergarment and placed it on the thin wire, "I have eight siblings and I'm the oldest, so it's my job to help them and my parents. Being a maid was the best choice available."

"Maid?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, do they not have maid's where you're from?" She gave an airy giggle, "Maid's are servant's to the nobles and we follow their orders in exchange for payment and wages. It's not the best job in the world, but it's better than many of the other alternatives." She didn't bother elaborating on what alternatives meant. The Undead personally wanted to know how they were being paid in souls considering how peaceful the entire place seemed to be. Perhaps they were paid with something else?...No, not possible. Only souls carried much weight.

A maid. Was that why she wore that impractically frilly outfit? No matter how much he checked it he could not find any attributes that it changed or added to. Dusk of Oolacile wore an outfit similar in style, but when he wore it (an experience he wasn't proud of) it was actually a very powerful set of equipment. Again maybe this was an enchantment that worked only for her. Perhaps it was what allowed her to do this 'laundry'?

"There, all done!" Siesta stood up and stretched before hanging the last piece of clothing over the small fire, "The clothes should be done by tomorrow morning, so please be sure to come back here by then. I'll help you again if you need it. I'll most likely be in the kitchen from noon up to the late afternoon, so find me there."

...How odd. An individual offering to help with no precedence or without expecting anything in return was completely new to him. Even Solaire's act of kindness had the dual purpose of him also surpassing the monster if he chose to summon him for help. Here she was offering to help him with no reward to her whatsoever, or at least no reward that was terribly obvious.

"Thank...Thank you..." By the abyss he was being an idiot. Already he could feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a goofy smile; an expression he hadn't done since he saw Siegmeyer sleeping in the middle of a poisonous swamp right after they'd fought together. Still, try as he might, he couldn't force it down. His lips refused to budge.

"You-You're welcome!" Siesta felt her face heat at the small gesture of happiness. While parts of the right side of his face were indeed covered in a thick cloth bandage, the parts that were exposed still showed him to be fairly well-off in appearance, at least for someone who looked to be nearing death not too long ago. And Siesta couldn't deny there was a certain appeal of mystery the bandages added to him. The light of the moon bathing the area around them and making the entire scene like something out of a romance novel certainly didn't help.

"I'll...see you tomorrow." Both Siesta and The Familiar nodded before going their separate ways. The former with a warmer face than usual and the latter one happy to find someone who wasn't out to stab him in the back...for now.

* * *

He spent the next few hours exploring the Academy again. Undead had no need for sleep, mostly because fatigue disappeared whenever he went to a bonfire. Granted he couldn't see a single bonfire here, but they couldn't be all gone could they? Linking the fire should've made the Bonfire's stronger, and him leaving didn't immediately make them disappear. So while he was feeling slightly tired already, he was confident he would be able to find a bonfire later if he asked his master.

Exploring the academy he went. At times he would spot the occasional flicker of movement, but when he checked there had been no sign anyone had been there to begin with, "Just...paranoid..." He mumbled to himself. He was unused to going so long without getting attacked by a monster or being invaded by black phantom's. Even the complete lack of traps in the area had begun to make him suspicious. His lack of weapons and proper armor certainly didn't help.

"Oh Katie, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" The male voice knocked him out of his reverie and forced him to stop walking, "If not, I shall scream it to the heavens if I must!"

The Familiar hid himself behind a column at the sound of the inherently annoying voice. With cautiousness born of multiple decapitations, he peeked his head out slowly and tried to spot the source of the voice.

"Oh, Lord Guiche~" A short, brown haired girl practically melted like a butter onto the arms of older, male noble.

The male had a confident smile on his face and blond locks that would give Solaire a run for his money, along with a well balanced physique that would have made him a good thief or archer. The girl by contrast seemed almost tiny against him, with long chocolate brown hair and a petite body structure that made it obvious she was the younger one between the couple. She reminded him of Rhea in that respect.

The uniforms they wore were similar to the one his master wore, though with obvious changes for the male. The same white fabric clothed their upper body's, but the girl's cloak had a brown appearance in place of the dark color the male and his master wore. The male also wore pants in place of a skirt, which was a relief because it would have been awkward for him to see...not that he had any experience wearing dresses or anything.

"My Katie, do not be afraid," The blonde boy produced a rose from absolutely nowhere, "I hope you realize that I have eyes for you and only you." He pressed up against her and pushed her gently against the pillar, hands cupping her chest and lips quickly making contact with hers. The Undead watched this with a look between curiosity and uncomfortableness.

What exactly were they doing? It looked like the male was trying to strangle her by cutting off her air intake, but if so why were his hands on her chest rather than on her neck? The girl seemed to be responding well to the so called attack, so it was safe to say that she wasn't in danger and he needn't interfere.

"L-Lord Guiche- Ahh!"

Okay, that was his cue to leave. He found no reason to disturb the two of them nor to stick around and watch whatever they were planning to do. Besides, some of the sounds they were making certainly didn't make it likely it was an act to be done in public...or private, really. It sounded odd and unnatural to him.

* * *

After a few more hours of exploring, and finding himself lost into a few more dead ends, the sight of the sun draping across the horizon signaled to him that he had to make his way back into his master's bedroom. Siesta had thankfully given him directions beforehand so it only took him about 5 times getting lost before he saw the familiar door that belonged to his master.

"Where have you been!?"

Louise stood in the middle of the room when he arrived; still dressed in her nightwear though no less intimidating for it. On her hand was some kind of small wooden stick, which she was currently pointing at him in an accusatory manner. No doubt it was the catalyst she used to cast her spells, though it was shorter and more pointed than the one's he'd seen and used.

"Explor-"

"No, never mind!" She stomped over to the wardrobe and pulled out another one of her uniforms, tossing them not so gracefully to confused Undead, "Here, hurry up and dress me so I won't be late for class."

Again he kept his questions to himself and did his task silently. He would serve this girl to the best of his ability, and the tasks she gave out were monumentally easier compared to the ones he faced during his time in Lordran. With fire in his heart (God's that was a bad metaphor), he grabbed the white shirt like cloth and draped it clumsily over her waiting arms, followed quickly by the skirt and then the cloak.

Louise felt a shiver go down her spine when his hand briefly touched against her shoulder. She still couldn't shake the feeling of aversion and mistrust against him, even if he'd pledged himself to serve her faithfully as her Familiar. Part of her was still nervous that he'd suddenly go back to being a flaming corpse and attack her when she least suspected it. But she needed this, needed him. She needed a Familiar as proof that she wasn't a worthless mage and that she could make her family proud.

"That's good enough," She turned around in the mirror quickly before bounding out the door, her familiar following right behind her in a much slower pace.

* * *

"Stay outside the classroom," Louise turned around and placed a hand against his chest, pushing him back slightly, "I'm having a class right now and I don't want anyone to ask questions about you," She pointed off to the side, "Stay with the other Familiar's and wait till class ends. Got it?"

Despite asking for his opinion, she stepped into the class before he could answer. With a sigh, the Familiar trudged over to the direction she pointed at and immediately felt his nerves freeze in terror.

Monster's. Dozens of monster's, lined up together like a group about to blast him back to the Abyss. He could see some familiar ones such as salamanders and dogs, but various other monsters that he had no familiarity with crossed into his field of view. Floating eyeballs, birds of small length but giant eyes, and even rather large mouse creature with claws stared at him with an expectant gaze. He could practically feel them beckoning him to come to them so they could kill him and bury his body under the cold earth.

His master expected him to stay with those things? Not a chance. He would be torn apart before he could find something to defend himself with and the lack of bonfires in the area was already beginning to worry him with their absence. If he got killed he had no idea where he'd end up again.

But what was the alternative? Disobeying his new Master certainly wasn't an option right now and it wasn't like he was completely helpless even without his equipment. The memory of him beating the Asylum demon half-way to death with his bare hands before his injuries forced him to flee was still fresh in his no doubt burnt mind.

He needed to do this. Cautiously he stalked forward, not so subtly staying closest to the least threatening monster - the large eyed bird - he could find and trying to keep his breathing in check. At least there was no dragon; that would have made him lose his nerve, especially considering the his experiences with Seath and the Gaping glutton.

The first thing that he noticed was that none of the monster's actually attacked him. Many of them didn't so much as budge from their spot, save for the rat like creature burrowing underground and coming back with different rings and pendants in its large mouth. The floating eyeball once got near him and started circling around, but it never made a move to attack or even make contact; it just stared at him.

"Hhhhhhhaaaaaahhhhh", Or maybe he spoke too soon. The sound that greeted his ears sounded like a mix between a growl and exhaling flame. Next to his right leg he could see the large flame lizard thing sniffing his leg and giving him a blank stare. Already he could feel his nerves shoot up nervously and his hand ball into a fist, ready at any moment to smack the demented monster back into whatever pit it came from.

"Haah" But rather than an attack, the large lizard continued to sniff him till it managed to reach his right forearm, before once again stopping and giving him a blank stare.

"Are...you..." He left the question hang, but the beast seemed to somehow understand and gave a grunting sound in response. With just the tiniest of glances to see if his master was there, the Familiar gave a simple nod and pulled the sleeve of his loose shirt back.

The salamander seemed to recoil slightly at the sight of the burnt flesh before once again leaning in closer to observe. It was the only burn wound on his body that lacked a bandage, no thanks to his laundry mishap, and so it stuck out pretty well against his skin.

Salamander's were attracted to flame, hence why many of them became Familiar's to flame mages. Despite this, however, they often gravitated more to natural flame rather than the conjurations of magic. The Salamander could smell the flames on him, feel the mark it left on his body. While his master's flame was indeed bright and powerful, no flame was as pure as the inferno from the Kiln. And he was a walking witness to it.

"I'm marked...aren't I?" The Familiar gave a sardonic smile as the lizard continued to observe the wound, "Will...it heal...?" He asked, even though he knew the monster (should he still call it that? It never attacked him)wouldn't reply back. Perhaps he was simply desperate for companionship that he was willing to ramble against something that would never understand him.

The action continued for a while more before the Salamander got tired and eventually stalked back onto its former spot, giving him free reign to return his sleeve.. Unfortunately he wasn't safe, as the floating eyeball from before - which he was beginning to find extremely annoying - seemed to take his non-reaction to the Salamander's sniffing as permission to continue its observation from before. Which it did, with an annoying gusto that tempted him to just grab the damn thing and smash it against the wall till it turned to paste. But he refused, if only because his master would've flung him from the top of her room if he did, and he still didn't see any bonfires anywhere.

***BTOOOM***

Thankfully, it appears fate had chosen to give him an Estus flask this one time. Smoke poured out of the classroom behind him and a stampede of student's followed soon afterwards, yelling something about a "Zero" or whatever. All of the monster's around him, including the salamander and annoying eyeball, immediately left their places and ran over to the gaggle of coughing students.

"Familiar, we're leaving..." His master emerged from the crowd, blackened by ash and smoke, and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from the messy room before he could go investigate what the source of the powerful explosive was.

Maybe now would be a good time to ask her about the bonfires, "Master-"

"Don't. say. a. word," She emphasized every word with a slam of her foot, "We're going to the Alviss dining hall and you are not going to say a word till we get there. Am I understood?" Her tone indicated there was no room for arguments.

"..." Guess he'll have to wait on that.

* * *

"Hey, is that Zero?"

"I'm surprised she's still here. Wasn't paying for her Familiar bad enough?"

"Well, where else would she go? I doubt even her own family wants her now!"

"That's true. I feel so sorry for the Duke and Duchess."

Louise gritted her teeth and ignored the insults that came. Her Familiar, mercifully, had followed her orders and didn't make a single comment as they bounded down the rows of the Alviss dining hall.

She was already taking a risk bringing her Familiar in with her instead of leaving him outside. In fact, she would have done so if not for the fact that he refused to stop shaking whenever he got near any of the other Familar's, particularly Bianca's floating eyeball that she could've sworn kept eying him whenever the two of them passed. Besides, she needed to feed her Familiar too, and he looked to be human enough so human food was probably needed.

"Familiar, the food-"

"No thanks..."

If Kirche were here, she would've been rolling on the floor at the dumbfounded expression the pinkette gave at being interrupted.

Undead didn't need food or water, so he had no reason to consume matter needlessly. The Estus was usually enough to sustain him, and even going long periods of time without the golden drink still didn't bother him the few times he ran out. Better that he spent his free time doing something constructive.

Speaking of which, "Master...where is...the kitchen?" He needed to talk to Siesta and ask about the laundry from earlier. And, if possible, pay her back for her help earlier. She told him he didn't need to earlier, but he felt uncomfortable leaving a debt unpaid. Unpaid debts had a bad habit of coming back to destroy you later, usually in the forms of invading Dark moons who were bored and felt like prosecuting anyone they perceived as wrong.

"Why do you want to- Nevermind. The kitchen's are over there," Louise pointed to the large doorway off to the side of the large hall, "Just come back before the allotted time for eating ends." She honestly had no time to deal with whatever he was planning. And it wasn't like he could do anything worse than he had already done when he arrived.

The Familiar nodded and walked slowly in the given direction, pointedly ignoring the various stares and pointing the other student's gave him. It was odd enough for him to see so many people in one place so close together.

"...Siesta?" He peeked his head into the kitchen, only to get nearly bowled over by said maid carrying two full trays of food ramming into him at full speed. Were it not for her being used to collisions, the entire tray would've been plastered against the both of them.

"Oh, mister Familiar!" She greeted enthusiastically. She would've waved as well, if not for the fact that she was currently carrying two trays, "Are you here to get some food?"

"No...I wanted to...ask about the..." He needed to keep his sentences short. The pausing and throat soreness was really beginning to irritate him.

"Laundry?" She guessed, "Well, it should be dry now, but I'm not really in a position to pick it up right now," She shook her hands as a gesture to the trays, " The eating hours for the nobles are the most busy time of the day and all of us are already lacking in numbers as it is. I'm sorry."

Without a word, he grabbed one of the trays from her hand, mimicking the odd way in which she held them, "Let me...help..."

"Oh no, I can't expect you to do that! You aren't under the employ of the Academy-"

"A...favor..." The Undead gave an almost microscopic smile at the maid, "You helped me...and I'll help you," He clarified, though he once again grimaced at the irritation that spread across his throat.

Siesta wanted to refuse, she really did, but she couldn't deny that an extra pair of hands would've been immensely helpful considering the amount of maid's that had recently left. Count Mott had really stepped up his recruitment quota and they hadn't been able to replace the servant's that he hired to work for him. His injuries didn't seem to bother him at any point, so that excuse was already out.

"Alright, if you insist." She gave a relieved smile, "Since you don't have any experience in serving, just please follow me around and help me carry the tray of food and plates. Is that alright?"

The Familiar nodded and followed Siesta around the room. While the rate and speed both she and the other servants showed was nothing if not organized, he couldn't help but observe how opposite the supposed nobles they served were in contrast.

While the servant's were synchronized and worked in tandem, the nobles were messy and often grabbed food from the trays without even looking at the servant's; as if they were just part of the decoration and didn't need to be acknowledged. It was an eerie reminder of the legends about the God's of Anor Londo ignoring their subjects since they were trapped in their own little worlds.

It saddened him slightly. Weren't they all humans? Or the same species, at least? None of them were superior to one another. Regardless of their clothes or appearance, they were all the same when it came down to it.

"Siesta...that smell?" He had only noticed it now, but the maid smelled of a watery fragrance that he couldn't place. The stench of it was extremely strong and he didn't really like it, but he was curious all the same. And it at least smelled better than the waste filled toxic swamp of Darktown. He wished he could give that Eyngi a good boot to the face right now.

"Oh, do you mean the perfume?" From the pocket of her maid uniform she took out a small, purple glass bottle, "I received it from a noble last night, though I don't know why. He told me to get rid of it, but I thought it would be a shame to let it go to waste so I kept it. Here do you want to try it?" And like his Master, she all but shoved the perfume into the pockets of his trousers before he could voice his opinion.

He shoved it right back into her pocket though, eliciting a small laugh from the maid. Oh well, more for her.

"Mister Familiar, this is our last order before the lunch hour ends," He could practically hear the relief in her voice. He could sympathize; moving around without the adrenaline of danger to keep him energized was tiring.

"...Yes..."

The two of them each grabbed one tray before Siesta led him towards a crowded table towards the center of the hall. Briefly he could see his master giving him an odd stare as he passed by her table, but she didn't bother to stand up or call out to him so he assumed she had no problem with what he was doing.

"And then me and my father fell the beast with a mighty spell!"

The last table they were in was crowded predominantly by females, but at the center of the crowd was the same blond haired boy that he saw from last night. Oddly enough, the girl he saw in his company last night was not among the crowd of females. Closest to him was an also blond girl with a hairstyle that he would describe as circular ringlets. Compared to the others at the table, she looked rather put off with his tales.

"I'll finish the rest of the story after I get a good drink," Ah, there was that weirdly annoying voice again, "You, maid!" He snapped a finger, "Pour me and the rest of the girls a drink, and make it quick!"

The Familiar looked slightly uncomfortable with the demanding voice the blond gave out, but Siesta's smile didn't so much as twitch as she poured the drinks in quick succession. She had obviously learned from experience not to cave someone's face in for being a demanding ponce.

Siesta gestured to him to bring the tray over and give it to her. He complied with her command with a curt nod.

"Hey, don't I know you?" With his one good eye, he saw the blond playboy giving him a curious look, "I never forget a face, especially with one as...unique as yours." Though his wording was polite enough, the way in which he said 'unique' left the Undead with no doubt that he was being insulted. Still, best not to fall into his bait. He'd dealt with insults and disrespect before.

"...I don't know..." He replied back honestly.

The blond fop wasn't willing to let this go, however, "No, I'm sure I know- Now I remember!" An unsettling smirk had suddenly pushed its way onto his face and he clapped his hands, "You're that actor that Valliere pretender hired, aren't you? I'm surprised you're still here."

"..." The Undead's eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave no other reaction.

"So how much is she paying you for this ruse?" He continued, "I must admit; I find your dedication to this joke to be slightly admirable. Valliere must have gone the extra mile to ensure she'd get a loyal actor that would see this through," He paused and stared at the tray on his hands, "Or maybe not, seeing as you seem to have no problems taking odd jobs with the servants."

"...Let's go," He nodded to Siesta and made to move away from the table, making sure to dump the tray onto the table first. Or he would have, if not for the fact that the rose wielding mage had grabbed onto his shoulder rather roughly, "...What?" The barest hints of annoyance seeped into his voice.

"How disrespectful!" He turned to the other ladies and feigned an insulted expression, eliciting some polite clapping and soft giggles from all of them, except the one girl with blond hair that still looked rather put off, "Is that any way to treat your betters? A commoner actor has no right to ignore a noble, especially since his master is a pretender."

"..." It took his entire being to prevent his fist from flying right into his mouth or to grab a tray and shove it down his throat. Without his weapons he wasn't sure if he would be a match for a sorcerer, especially in his weakened state. Though he would have made damn sure the annoying blond wouldn't come out of it unscathed.

"Mister Familiar, perhaps we should get going," Siesta was at his side, trying to pull him away, "Miss. Valliere is probably looking for you." She reminded him somewhat nervously. She recognized the blond boy at the center and didn't want to stick around.

"Oh by all means, go back to your fake Master," Guiche smirked and held up both hands nonchalantly, "I'm sure that you have to put your tongue to her boot in order to earn your next wage."

The Undead Familiar was always in control of his actions, but this wasn't the case now. He could feel his right fist shaking something fierce and the want to attack the blond brat increased with every passing second. The superior tone he kept using reminded him of his burning hatred for Dark Sun Gwyndolin, and the flamboyancy the boy held up certainly wasn't doing him any favors.

"Guiche, hold up," The ringlet haired girl from earlier stood up and made her way next to him, "I've been meaning to ask something of you," She pointed to the maid, " That scent you have seems familiar. Where did it come from?"

The Familiar could almost see the sweat pool around the cocky nobles face as Siesta pulled the perfume out of her uniform. It didn't take long for the Undead Familiar to make the connection when he saw the nervous looks he gave the small bottle, "A-Are you talking about this, milady-"

"Give me that!" Guiche practically lunged at the poor maid, intent on grabbing the bottle out of her hands. Unfortunately, the ringlet girl was faster and he found himself grabbing only empty air.

"I knew it!" The entire dining hall was silenced by the rather audible sound of the female noble yelling, "Guiche, this is my perfume!" She turned and gave a full on scowl at the playboy, "Why does this maid have my perfume with her!?"

"Her perfume...?" Siesta's voice was nervous and filled with horror. The Undead's rage from earlier was gone now, only to be replaced by worry. Why was Siesta so nervous? "I-I didn't know...I-I would not have accepted it if I knew this was the case!" She pleaded.

By now an entire crowd was beginning to form around them. Off to the side he could see his master trying to push her way to the crowd, only to be met with no success as the people refused to budge. He would've helped her if not for the fact that he wasn't sure if leaving Siesta on her own was such a good idea.

"Accept? Guiche, did you give this girl my perfume!?" She demanded again, "You know I gave that to you as a sign of our engagement! How could you give it away like a common mixture!"

He hadn't given it as a present. Katie would've found out about his lies if she saw the perfume since the two of them being engaged was a common rumor around the academy. It wasn't uncommon for fiancee's to give each other presents made using their specialty skills; Guiche himself had given her a small statuette he made of her a few months before. So rather than get his own hands dirty, he simply found the closest servant and gave the perfume in hopes of replacing it later.

Things obviously didn't go according to plan.

"M-Montmorency, I would never break your heart!" Another rose was pulled from out of nowhere and offered to the fuming girl, "I assure you on my honor that I remain faithful to you and only you!"

"Then how do you explain this maid having it?" Her tone had lightened slightly when she saw the rose, but she still seemed rather suspicious of him.

"I...I must've dropped it and she picked it up," He excused quickly, "Or maybe she stole it from me," He added.

"What? But you gave-"

He fervently ignored the rapid explanations Siesta gave and continued, "Yes, that must be it! I would not be as careless as to lose something as important as a gift my fiancée gave me to celebrate our union!" A reassuring smile made its way onto his face.

"I-I guess you have a point..."

Rage seethed at him again. While the two couples continued to pander back and forth on the truth, both they and the crowd ignored the maid who was all but crying at this point.

"Siesta..." He whispered softly.

The poor maid looked like a mess. She constantly shook all over and her hands kept opening and closing like she was hoping to find the solution if she did it enough times. He could see her mouth moving rapidly, but no sounds came out.

"I-I'm going to get fired...that's the price of stealing from nobility..." Tears started to leak from the nervous girl's eyes, "And that's if I'm lucky. Stealing from nobility is a serious crime and I'll probably be sent to the dungeons if I get blamed. B-But I didn't do it! H-He gave me the perfume last night when I bumped into him!" She didn't bother voicing out the complaints to the oblivious couple. Only he heard it, and there was nothing he could do.

So he was willing to ruin someone's life just to preserve his own reputation? He was worse than Lautrec! And that was saying something considering all he'd done and that evil laugh that basically said 'I'm going to betray you later'.

"Guiche..." The blond, Montmorency he called her, seemed to soften at the passionate explanation her lover gave her. She was also ignoring the maid's desperate explanations,, "Y-You're right, maybe I was jumping to conclusions-"

"Lord Guiche?"

Or maybe she was right and the blond fop was simply a worthless playboy.

A short, brown haired girl stared at the blond with mix of surprise and, much to the playboy's horror, pure sorrow. She pushed through the crowd with remarkably more success than his master till she reached the center of the scene.

Katie stood there, teary eyed and with a giant frown on her face, "D-Didn't you say that you had eyes only for me?" She gripped the hem of her cloak and did her best to try and stop herself from voicing out her thoughts.

"Ah, K-Katie-"

"Katie!?" The soft expression on Montmorency's face was gone, replaced with even more rage from before, "So you do know this girl, don't you Guiche?"

"Wh-What? Of course not, I-"

"H-Huh? But you said you loved me!" She'd officially given up holding the tears in and let the small droplets cascade down her face like a waterfall, "I-I gave you my first kiss!"

"First kiss! Why you cheating bastard!"

Two loud slaps echoed across the room, both of which came from the rather irate perfume maker. Guiche stepped back, eyes wide in surprise and irises diluted as the emerging red color started to spread across his cheeks. Katie did nothing but collapse into a nearby chair, continuing to cry her eyes out as sympathetic hands from the crowd patted her gently in comfort. Siesta could only step back carefully, barely dodging the stomping form of the blonde haired noble, who was promising to do some very unpleasant things against her would be fiancée.

"Let's go..." He grabbed Siesta's arm and gently tried to tug the girl from her reverie. Both to escape the situation and to avoid having to explain himself to his master about what happened in a public area.

The maid refused to budge. Fear had rooted her to the spot and she was too afraid if she would still be blamed even if she chose to leave now. The price for stealing was bad, but the price for stealing and running was even worse. Her family would suffer as well and she would do anything to stop that from happening.

"You, this is all your fault!" Guiche stood back up and leveled an accusatory hand against the maid, "You caused all this with your theft!"

And now he was even going as far as to believe his own lies even when he had already lost? This was getting ridiculous. Blaming Siesta would've served no purpose at this point other than to retain some of his lost ego, which the Undead was sure wouldn't have mattered in the very least.

He stomped over to her and pulled out his wand, aiming it at the crying maid, "Admit to your theft before I-"

The young noble found himself being rather roughly shoved away from the maid and tossed across the floor. Silence reigned across the hall; even the crying from the maid and innocent noble had stopped to be replaced by shock and curiosity. The Undead stood in front of the maid, looking rather stoic despite the sight of the noble on the floor.

No one was as shocked as this than Guiche himself however, "You...You dare hit a noble!" He brandished the wand and aimed it straight at him like a firearm, "I will have you pay for dearly for this grievous insult!"

From within the crowd, Louise paled. This was bad, this was VERY bad. Please Founder, let her idiotic Familiar come to his senses and apologize.

"... Idiot..."

Was her familiar an Idiot!? He was going to get himself killed!

"I have suffered your insult for the last time!" Technically it was his first time, but one was way too many for the annoyed noble, "I was simply trying to dispense justice and clear my name, and yet you try to stop me? Very well, I will accept that as a challenge!"

It wasn't enough for him to play victim, but now he tried to make himself out as the hero in all this? This was getting beyond stupid for him. He was half tempted to challenge him now even if he had nothing but some bare clothes on him (and maybe a tray if he could grab one) and his opponent was a magic user. If he could fight Ornstein and Smough with broken armor, a half charged pyromancy glove, and a nearly broken lightning spear, then he was sure he could at least put up a decent fight against a cocky Sorcerer who (probably) didn't know any crystal spells.

And the crowd was buying into all this? Were they simply stupid or were they so bored that they would take the side of the aggressor so long as it extended their fun and piqued their interests?

"...Pathetic..." He didn't know whether he was referring to Guiche or the crowd in general.

Something snapped in Guiche. Not literally, but mentally. He could feel rage overtake him and the urge to murder the impudent commoner had increased tenfold, "If you would insult me as thus, Commoner," he spat out the word like a poison, "Then I urge to drop your costume and look me in the eye!"

With barely constrained rage, Guiche lunged forward and grabbed hold of the bandages covering the Undead Familiar's head before pulling them away with a great tug. This was followed by another bout of silence, though noticeably more uncomfortable this time.

Siesta covered her mouth with her hands, Louise felt the urge to vomit, and the other nobles had reactions ranging from mild disturbance to outright disgust.

Guiche had expected the bandages to be fake; a simple prop to make the performance more believable. What he found instead was...horrifying. Burnt skin, charred a dark red and injuries the likes of which he hadn't even heard of before, save some odd tales from his father. Despite the wound being exposed to open wind, the Undead gave no indication that it bother him and both eyes continued to train themselves on the stunned noble.

"By the Founder...you really are a monster aren't you?" The bandage hung loosely from his hand before he threw it away in disgust, "Or are you so dedicated to your fake master that you would willingly injure yourself for a few coins?"

The remark earned a few jeers and laughs from the crowd. Guiche felt his confidence boost with the sounds of their support, "Or maybe you're simply ugly. I personally find that explanation more believable." More laughs and jeers. Guiche was doing what any noble would do; replace fear with disgust and superiority. The fact remained that he had magic and, as far as he knew, his opponent did not. There was nothing for him to fear.

"Well, whatever the explanation, I shall take your barbed insults as a duel. I assume you're aware of what a duel is. Or has that rotting also affected your brain as well?"

He knew what a duel was. He'd been challenged by enough invading black phantom's that it was impossible for him not to, "...I know..." He replied back neutrally. Now whether the 'noble' - and he used that term loosely - was worthy of a duel or not was besides the point. He would play along for now, seeing as fighting him and the entire crowd really didn't appeal to his survival instincts.

"Good, then meet me outside by the Vestri courtyard. You shall see what your crimes against nobility shall get you."

* * *

**Finished this one as well. Since I SUCK at fight scenes, the next chappie will take absolutely forever to make. Hopefully it won't take too long**

**Oh, and the next chapter probably won't be as long as this. This chapter was mostly world-building and dialogue doesn't take as much space or words.  
**

**More Author's Notes: I'll also start making more obvious changes to the plot by the middle of the foquet arc and after it, though I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't go off-tangent to the canon too much. I'll also be taking arcs from both the anime/manga and the novels, depending on which medium portrayed the arc better.  
**

**I've already made changes by making Louise and Guiche (the how much the former's changed is up to you) way more unlikeable, and addicted to their so called superiority that they honestly believe their life is worth a thousand other commoner's. I'll also focus a bit more on the politics and backyard dealings that seem to get shuffled under the rug in favor of more romantic drama. I personally wanted to watch how Halgakenian politics worked or how destabilized Gallia's monarchy with its constant assassinations.  
**

**Also, can I ask a question to everyone? The first major arc after the Foquet one focuses on Reconquista overthrowing the nobility and putting them out of power...so how is this a bad thing again? At that point the number of decent, kind-hearted nobles could be counted on one hand, and even they have their vices or secrets. At that point every noble is a jerkass at best (Guiche, Louise, various other nobles) to glorified rapists and power abusers at worst (Mott, that tax collector who harassed the Fairy Inn, etc etc). Isn't the revolution technically a good thing? So why is it portrayed as wholly negative when the people they plan to overthrow aren't the clean victim's they pain themselves as? This really confused me and I'm most likely just missing the point or something, so I'd appreciate if someone explained to me.  
**

**On a less serious note, does anybody know what the hell they say to cast spells? I can't tell what it is and I'll just have to default to either non-verbal spells or latin if no one knows.  
**

**That's all for now. Please read, review, and comment accordingly. It encourages me to write faster and don't be afraid to criticize; just stay polite and make sure the things you criticize are valid.  
**


	4. Guiche meets Tray

**Hey guys! This is my 4th chapter of Dark of Zero and it'll be mainly focused on the fight between Guiche de Gramont and the Chosen Undead along with its aftermath. As always I'll be answering questions/worries/comments in the reviews before I get started.**

**Lord Sigfry - Yes, I know how idiotic it makes them sound. Did you read the notes from Chapter 2 and Louise's segment? They're supposed to look idiotic and they're just grasping at straws because they didn't like what they saw. I'm not going to repeat what I stated in the previous chapters, so just look at the notes for chapter 2.**

**DragFire - I do plan something similar to that effect, though I've never actually read that piece of art. I'm scared that I'll be tempted to steal ideas from them, so I'm avoiding reading that, Unfamiliar, Zero's Shock, and The Hill of Swords until I manage to pass the Foquet arc. I did read the first two chapters of "On the Wings of an eagle", but that's it. My friend read it and he gave me some clues, but again it's nothing concrete. I really don't want to steal anything from the greats.**

**ArmorOfGeddon and everybody else who answered my question - Thank you for the clear and concise posts, and I do agree that it's similar to Devil you know (Nobles) vs Devil you don't know (Reconquista). I still have issue with the entire conflict being presented in the narration as wholly good vs bad rather than gray vs grayer. So I will be having Reconquista do some good things along with their bad, if only to make the populace actually consider supporting them against the nobles. Propaganda is one of the greatest tools in a war, and what better way to overthrow the current regime than tricking the populace to**

**Nix's Warden - Do you see bonfires in the world of Tsukaima? That answers your question on "what's up" with the bonfires. And I stated before that he does have all spells; he just can't use them since he doesn't have the talisman/pyromancy glove/catalyst that allows its use. The wands the Tsukaima cast use are different from the catalysts he has, so he can't use them.**

**Drake202 - The chapter should answer whether he still counts as Undead, though I did give some hints about his true nature now in the previous chapter. Also, he doesn't get a name yet and goes by a made up name if he has to introduce himself while keeping his nature hidden. It's not too hard to come up with a fake name.**

**Demons Anarchy - Yes, he'll have a combination of both, along with some new skills he'll learn from adapting. Also, no, there's no plans currently of the Chosen Undead meeting Boleteria's Champion. One strong undead warrior is already tipping the scales, so two strong undead warriors will destroy the scale altogether. It was mostly a throw it in reference. The picture is also a pretty accurate rendition of how this Chosen Undead ended the story, but obviously his epic gear and levels are gone for now. Burning for 10 years does that to you.**

**ArcherReborn2 - I'll keep the age thing in mind:) Anyway, I'm not completely taking it all from gameplay, as it also implies that the concept of climbing is completely alien to the Chosen Undead. As you'll see from the atrocity of a fight scene in this chapter, he'll already be able to do things that people wish they could do in gameplay.**

**Piterio - I'm making a list of the love interests and reasons at the end of the chapter. Please read it down there since it's way too big for up here.**

**Lunatic Pandora1 - Yeah, I noticed that problem actually. Any tips? I can't seem to go a single paragraph without adding "apostrophe but, apostrophe so, apostrophe which, apostrophe etc etc". It's the only way I can think of for extending sentences.**

**Chaos Theory - Yes, I'll be throwing in the occasional references to both this and other media from time to time. Since the land of Halgakenia takes place from about 1400's to 1700's at least aesthetically and politically, I'll make references to media that take place in those times.**

**Unknown Reader: No, he does not have the soul of Manus in his box on account of using it to get both the catalyst and the Abyssal Soulmass (a feat which is impossible in game since getting one makes the other lost forever.). And no, as of right now I don't plan to have him get special transformer powers from consuming souls. Where did this idea come from anyway? The Souls are there for equipment crafting because the game is equipment based. Even the original Tsukaima was equipment based given that Saito's powers only worked when he had one on hand. Considering one of the main benefits of the dragon cult is turning into a dragon head, making souls a transformation consumable just makes it redundant.**

**ZeroX1999 - Actually, the light novels revealed that one of the reasons Foquet does it is because she likes seeing Aristocrat's squirm. She's definitely not a good guy, but she does have the value of her vicims being mostly assholes and her relationship with Tiffania humanizing her somewhat. Seeing as she has no problem supporting Reconquista and has Wardes as a partner, she's also morally loose and somewhat power hungry.**

**On a general note, Louise seems to have an actual sense of humor in the novels. When they first went into the town, Louise pointed out the castle since they were on the road leading into it. Saito remarked that they should visit the queen and when prodded why he replies that he'd ask for a bigger portion of food from what Louise gives him. Rather than tell him to shut up or physically abuse him again, she actually laughs and just warns him about getting robbed by pickpockets. I guess there's something human in her after all.**

**And on an unrelated side-note, it is really annoying having to alternate between calling the CU either "The Undead", "The Familiar", or the "The Undead Familiar". Unfortunately I can't give him a fake name till the Fairy Inn arc, and that's way far off. Even further is giving him a permanent name to use for the rest of the story.**

**Now that all those questions are over with, let's start!**

"Then meet me outside by the Vestri Courtyard. You shall see what your crimes against nobility get you."

With that last word echoing from his mouth, Guiche gave a flamboyant twirl of his rose wand and turned to leave through the large entrance of the dining hall. Behind him the crowd followed behind closely, some looking back warily to make sure the Familiar wouldn't try a sneak attack. Commoner's were so crass and lacking in honor, unlike nobles such as they. Some of them excepted him to attack Guiche when he couldn't possibly defend himself.

He didn't. He continued to stand there, doing his best to urge a reaction out of Siesta. The young maid continued to stare, wide eyed and afraid as the crowd got closer to the exit. Once they passed that threshold there would be nothing she or he could do to stop the duel. He would be killed trying to defend her.

"Mister Familiar, please go and apologize to the Lord Gramont right now!" Siesta finally managed to speak out, "Duels are forbidden on academy grounds, but his family is very powerful and influential! I-I don't know what will happen to you if you don't stop him!" She all but yelled out.

"...Really?" He gave a quick glance to the retreating group before giving a another titled head at the panicking maid, "...Nothing...scary...or dangerous..." He pointed at the blond fop, or rather at the general direction where he went. By this point he and the entire crowd had passed the door and only they and a select few stayed behind in the dining hall.

"You're wrong!" Siesta gripped his shoulders tightly, much to the Undead's discomfort, "He may not look like much, but Lord Gramont is a dot class mage! His constructions are durable and he can make them without casting!"

Dot class? Constructions? What in the abyss was this girl talking about? Were there rankings in this continent that differed from Vinheim? As far as he could remember the rankings for sorcerer's were simply "Apprentice, Journeyman, and Master". He'd met the apprentice Griggs and the master (though he preferred to be called Seeker) Logan in his travels. Did dot class mean anything in coordination-

He got it! One dot most likely meant apprentice, two dots journeyman, and three for master. Construction was a bit harder to place, but he guessed she meant how fast and how powerful his soul arrows were. In his experience, apprentices could conjure them one at a time and a decent shield was usually enough to block it, provided his stamina was still alright. Speaking of shields...

The Undead remained quiet at the news, though his hand removed itself from her shoulder and found its place onto the table next to them. Siesta wondered if he finally realized the gravity of the situation before she saw what he was grasping.

He was holding onto the tray they meant to serve to the nobles before the fight began; examining the entire thing slowly like it was a work of art.

"Um...Mister Familiar?" She couldn't keep the incredulousness that seeped into her voice, "Why are you holding the tray?"

The Familiar didn't answer her and continued to examine the tray he had in his hands. While it was shorter than what he was used to, he couldn't deny that any protection against soul arrows would be invaluable right now. Still, the lack of grip on its flat side worried him. How was he supposed to use this thing properly with a weapon? He could grip the edges and use it as shield, but he wouldn't be able to use it like that in case he need to grip a weapon or use his right fist.

The material was something he wasn't used to; some kind of bendable metal, but no less strong and durable despite the fact. To be frank it was actually better than some of the shields he'd used. Days where he lost Sanctus and had to make do with using a plank shield resurfaced at the back of his mind. If he could fight crystalized Hollows with a plank, he could fight an apprentice sorcerer with something better.

"Familiar!" The Undead turned and found his master stomping over to him with a look that promised him pain. A promise which was about to be fulfilled by the fact that the raging mage raised a hand up and prepared to slap him. Instinct immediately took over and he raised the impromptu shield against his left cheek. The result was instantaneous: A rather loud clang echoed all over the hall and he found his master comically jumping up and down, holding her rapidly reddening hand painfully as she tried to stop herself from grimacing.

The stats on the thing were pretty good as well. Despite being used to carry around confectioneries and small meals, the scaling was pretty decent. While it did focus on dexterity rather than strength despite its build, it was still good for taking hits as seen when his master tried to attack him.

"...Master?" Oh right, he had almost forgotten about her in the heat of the situation. He really need to remember to ask her about the bonfires before he fought. Not that he was scared of dying against the sorcerer, but it never hurt to be careful, "...All right?" He asked hesitantly.

"What do you think!?" She raised her other hand and prepared to slap him before stopping. He'd held up the shield against his right cheek now and it would've no doubt led to both her hands getting hurt. And so she did the only thing that came to mind.

With a quick charge up, she put her leg back and aimed a kick at his lower shin, "OW!" Only to be met with disappointment as he one again blocked the low attack with some quick placement of the metal tray. She on the other hand was now forced to hp on one foot as her other one felt like it had kicked a stone wall at full pelt, "Will you drop that stupid tray already! It looks ridiculous!" She yelled out in frustration.

The Undead watched his master's actions with a look of utter confusion, "...You're...okay?" He asked again, giving his soon to be signature tilted head at the furious girl. Her hands and feet looked like it hurt, though he couldn't imagine why. Blocking an attack didn't mean it accounted to damage...unless this shield had reflective properties? Hmm, maybe he should consider trading up.

He couldn't help but notice that she refused to look at him directly, unlike Siesta. It was the burns most likely: Siesta had already seen them last night and had time to get used to it. This was his master's first time looking at the scars directly, save that one time where he had recently gotten out of the Kiln. He really couldn't blame her; he really did look like a monster with the scars and injuries on his body.

"No, you idiot!" She was tempted to kick him again, consequences be damned. First he starts a fight with a noble and now he has the gall to act clueless? She was beginning to think maybe a corpse would've been a better familiar; at least it wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble! "You picked a fight with Guiche! What were you thinking!?"

Even his master was scared? It was pretty ridiculous. Why were they so scared? His master was a sorcerer just like he was. He could at least partially understand Siesta's fear of the blond sorcerer, but his master's fear came off as really silly to the Familiar. Sorcery didn't make one invincible nor did it make them particularly smart. He could still remember that forest guardian who kept falling for the same trick every time he wanted him to jump off the cliff. Well, him and his 4 other friends who never seemed to get that maybe doing a pounce attack at the edge of a cliff was a bad idea.

Unless...she was scared for a different reason? "Master's...friend?" He inquired at her. It would make sense. They were both of the so called upper class, they had similarities in being Sorcerer's, and they both had that heightened sense of self that he hadn't seen since Patches or Lautrec. They were practically alike, gender and body structure notwithstanding. Not even so much in the latter point considering their chest heights were practically identical despite the different genders.

The response was quick, "No! By the founder, no! He's not my friend!" Louise stomped on the ground, ignoring the pain that shot up her foot at the action, "He's a stupid playboy that relies on his father's reputation to seduce young maidens! I would never be caught dead being his friend!" She denied fervently. And why did she feel like her Familiar just insulted her body?

Then why was she so scared? She outright stated he was nothing more than a playboy (what exactly was that? Some kind of new title?) that relied on his father's reputation for everything. Sorcery didn't suddenly make him invincible as neither did it do so for Seeker Logan.

"Do you really not realize what you've done?" Louise gritted out slowly, "Guiche will kill you! He will completely destroy and there won't be anything you can do about it!" She waved her hands theatrically for emphasis, "The only way to escape this is if the two of us apologize to him," She grimaced as the word apologize and him passed through her mouth, "Maybe then you'll get away with a lashing only, or a beating if we're lucky."

And again, why was she so worried? He died an average of three times a day, and that was when there was no surprise blade or spike pit around the next corner or some huge monster that took more hits to kill than Solaire on a sunny day. He remembered dying over ten times fighting a certain bed of chaos and dealing with a sorcerer would have him with only one death at most even without his Estus. Soul arrow's may have been accurate, but they certainly weren't fast.

Granted making his way back to the fight would certainly be a pain in the backside. He still didn't see a single bonfire in the entire time he'd been here, meaning that it was either behind a false wall or it was nestled deep into the academy and through even more complicated hallways. And that was if they were even active to begin with. He didn't know what would happen if he got killed without an active bonfire nearby. Perhaps he'd be transported to the nearest one, regardless of location? If so, then making his way back to the battle would be even more tedious.

"Why am I even telling you this?" Louise wondered aloud, "I'm your master and you have to do what I say. I'm going out there right now and telling Guiche to stop this stupid farce of a duel," She turned and glared at him, "Don't make this any worse than it already is, got it?" With that final order, Louise quickly turned around and rushed out of the banquet hall, leaving only him and Siesta in the desolate dining room.

Regardless of what his master or Siesta told him, he would not back down from this. Maybe it would've been better to apologize for his actions, but he certainly felt no reason to. He was clearly in the wrong and he just reacted to his mistakes. The Familiar nodded to himself before strapping the tray against his back. Siesta stared in surprise as the flat tray stuck to his back despite his lack of a sling or a handhold.

"Mister Familiar, please reconsider," Siesta grasped his shoulder again, though noticeably more gentle this time, "I'm sure that we'll both be alright so long as we both apologize to Lord Gramont." That was a lie. The Undead could see that she was lying even without trying to. Her voice shook when she talked and she refused to look him in the eye. It was just like Frampt when he started asking too many questions.

""It'll be...alright..." The Undead placed a hand softly atop her head. He didn't know why, it just felt natural to do so, "Don't...worry..."

"Oh, I'm surprised you managed to find your way here!" Was it just him, or did the blond fop's voice get even more annoying ? ...Nah, it couldn't be him. It definitely got more annoying in the short time he was away, "I assumed your brain had degraded along with the rest of your body. I am glad to see this wasn't the case. I would have felt bad fighting someone who was mentally handicapped."

The Undead didn't bother giving a reaction to the insults, instead choosing to scan the area for viable tactics, _'Wide circular area...but the crowd is blocking the entire thing and making it narrower,' _It felt oddly satisfying being able to talk without having to pause, even in his own mind. Regardless, he was already able to come up with a strategy that was both simple and effective: Use the shield and rush forward, but strafe left and right to avoid as much of the arrows as he could. When he got close enough, he would stick the shield on his back and then try to either steal or destroy his opponent's catalyst. Without that, he would be helpless.

"Guiche, stop this right now!" Louise stomped forward and blocked her familiar from moving forward, "You know that duels are forbidden on academy grounds!"

"As I remember, that rule only applies to nobles dueling one another," Guiche laughed as Louise sputtered for another explanation, "And as I also remember, it was not I who challenged your Familiar to a duel. He attacked me as I was attempting to clear my good name and I responded accordingly like a true aristocrat should." An unsettling smirk made its way to his mouth, "Of course I don't expect a pretender like you to understand how an aristocrat would act."

Like self righteous psychopaths? Was this how nobility acted? The Undead felt something inside him wither at the thought. Perhaps he had gotten too idealistic when he came here. On the first night he actually felt calm and, for the first time in a long while, safe. But every place was the same: Just filled with people desperate to do evil and harm to others for their own benefit. It didn't surprise him that Humanity's soul was so black. Even the God's in all their selfishness could barely compare to humanity's collected hatred and despair. His choice in the Kiln may have been a mistake.

"Guiche, you know he can't fight back!" Louise yelled back furiously, "This isn't a duel, it's a massacre! He'll die if you allow the duel to happen!" Guiche yawned at the plea and the crowd ignored her protests. Louise used her trump card, "Stop the duel, please!" With a heavy heart, she stooped forward and bowed, facing straight at the ground like a common servant.

Guiche stopped mid-yawn and gave a look of genuine surprise to the bowing pinkette, "Do you truly care for this actor that you would bow your head for his offense?" The young noble didn't give a reply, though she also didn't raise her head up, "Well well, I never thought I would see the day that the Zero Valliere would lower her head."

"...So you'll forgive him?" A trace of hopefulness managed to eke its way into her voice. She didn't even know why she went so far for a Familiar that she didn't even want. Was she truly so desperate to prove that she was a mage, to prove her family (sans Cattleya) wrong for calling her a problem child, that she was willing to toss her reputation away for something as flimsy as a Familiar she wasn't even sure of?

"Yes, I forgive him," Guiche gave a flamboyant point of his rose wand at the staring Undead, "Provided that he also bows and admits he was wrong. I was simply trying to prove my innocence and he unjustly attacked me. I think it's fair that he get at least a beating for not knowing his place."

The look Louise gave him was something he'd never seen before: Desperation, pure and unbridled. She was begging him to bow like she did, to take the beating in the hopes nothing worse would happen to either of them. But what about Siesta? If he followed his master's orders and bowed, then the maid would have no one to vouch for her innocence. In saving himself he would doom Siesta to whatever plans this noble had for her.

He couldn't do it. Even if he died a hundred fold he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he allowed someone who'd done something for him without reward or motive to suffer if he could do something about. With a purposely slow breath, the Undead shook his head in refusal and bent his body slightly in anticipation. If he was going to fight then he'd need to be ready to dodge the spells as they came.

Louise gave her Familiar a look of utter disappointment. Anger didn't cloud her face, but rather melancholy. She'd tried, Founder be her witness she did. Was she so pathetic that she couldn't control her Familiar's actions even with sincerity? With pursed lips, she stood up from her position and escaped into the crowd. She didn't want to see what would happen to him. Part of her tried to convince herself it was because she didn't care, but she knew this was a lie.

"Hmph, very disappointing," Guiche gave a careless shrug at his non-verbal refusal, "Very well then. I gave a chance for you to escape and you spit on my generosity," Another flamboyant gesture followed the statement, "Very well. If it is a duel you seek, then I shall not be the one deny you." The crowd gave a rambunctious cheer at the announcement.

"My name is Guiche de Gramont and my runic name is 'The Bronze'," He waved the rose in his hand and a petal fluttered down from the base down to the ground, "Accordingly, you will be fighting my bronze golem Vakyrie as your real opponent."

Whatever the Familiar was expecting, it certainly wasn't what he was seeing right now. The second the petal touched the ground, a bright light engulfed the small area in the shape of a suit of armor. The very next second he found himself face to face with a bronze knight, cloaked in a suit of armor made of bronze and wielding a spear that was at least half his body height. The Bronze being was also taller than him by a landslide, the top of its head reaching at least a foot taller than him. If it was trying to intimidate him then it was working.

He didn't get much of a chance to observe the weird creation before he was forced to move. With blinding speed, the bronze Golem raised the spear and aimed straight at his gut. Instinct once again took over and the Undead found himself rolling frantically to side and barely dodging the spear. The makeshift shield at his back bent slightly when he landed on it but he was unharmed.

"Well well, I wasn't expecting you to dodge so well," He could hear Guiche's mocking voice patronizing him, "Don't worry, I am not without mercy. The spears have been blunted so they will not kill you. I just hope you know how to take a few hits for your master's sake."

Once again the Golem turned and rushed to him, and once again he found himself dodging frantically to stop himself from being impaled. All around him he could hear the crowd laughing, pointing at him as if he were some amusement that came along to brighten their day.

What was going on? What were these things? Summoning magic was an impossibility in Lordran. Or at least the summoning of Artificial beings. The golem attacking him was no doubt lacking in sentience, and yet it moved like clockwork in its strikes and targeting. Was this why Siesta and his master were so afraid of facing him? Perhaps he should have kept his assumptions to himself.

Another hit and another dodge came and went. The Undead couldn't do this forever, "Come on..." He stood up as fast as he could and grabbed the shield stuck to his back, forming a makeshift barrier. The Golem took the tray as a sign of challenge and stalked forward, spear raised and ready to strike at him.

Just before the spear hit, the Undead turned the tray to the side. The spear scratched loudly against the metallic wall before before being forced away with a hard push. The Golem made to do another strike but the Undead was faster. Dropping the shield to one hand, he reared his right fist back before ramming the unarmed hand forward in a strong punch.

The sounds of bending metal resounded all over the field. Guiche watched with utter surprise as his Golem stepped back, it's face caved inward and it's spear held loosely in its hand. The Undead gave a grimace and shook his hand slightly. That hurt, but the question in his mind was why. Before he could punch armored knights and his fist barely shook from the strain. Why was punching armored copies so painful now?

Murmurs began to spread through the crowd. Vaguely he could see his master look up with a look of utter surprise on her face at the sight of her Familiar not being...dead, or at the very least heavily maimed. Siesta was there as well, even more shocked though he could see relief breaking into it as well.

"H-Hmph, so I see you have some skill," Guiche waved his wand and gave a strained laugh, "However, do not expect this duel to go your way simply because you damaged one of my Valkyries," To prove his point, the damaged Valkyrie jumped back and readied another stance, despite the damage to it's cranium, "Damage has no effect on my Valkyrie's, so a single punch will do nothing to stop it."

The same technique followed again. The Valkyrie charged forward intending to skewer him and he dodged against the strike as best he could. Rather than use his hands again however, he kicked hard against the Valkyrie's shins and caused it to topple over from lack of balance. Immediately he made as much distance as he could from the bronze monstrosity. As long as it held the spear then it had the advantage in terms of power. And he wasn't even sure if any amount of damage could destroy it.

"Coward! Stop running away and face my Valkyries!"

More petals flew from the rose and two more Valkyries were summoned; one with a spear of similar design and the other with a longsword. He could see the damaged one get engulfed in a bright light before disappearing quickly. Shame, he would've liked to get a few souls from it.

The Undead once again detached the tray from his back. Fighting with two opponents was difficult, but he had faced worse in the past. First he needed to deal with the one holding the spear; longer reach and more piercing capability. Afterwards he would have to deal with the one holding the longsword before facing Guiche himself. The rose was obviously the catalyst summoning them and this would go on forever if he didn't stop him.

He charged forward, aiming at the spear wielder and preparing to strike again. The spear wielding Valkyrie seemed to read his mind as it charged forward again, spear raised and prepared to strike. Making a quick mental countdown, the Undead raised up the tray and held it straight as the spear pierced forward.

This time there was no parrying or scratches. The spear met barely any resistance from the metal tray before it pierced through, rendering the shield (though it was a stretch to call it even that) useless. Guiche gave a large smirk at the sight. Finally he was going to stop being humiliated by that commoner wielding a tray like some kind of warrior servant.

The spear continued to lurch forward, slowly but surely inching forever more inward...before suddenly stopping. The bronze Valkyrie seemed to pause in its advance before once again trying to nudge the spear forward. Again it was met with a lack of success. It took Guiche a few seconds to realize why.

He'd bent the tray inwards. Half the spears tip was already through the makeshift shield, but the large half was still penetrating when the tray was folded. As a result the Valkyrie found its weapon stuck and it wouldn't budge so long as the Undead held it in his hands.

_'Now!'_ As the Valkyrie once again made to push forward he quickly pulled back. The spear was launched out of its hands and tossed into the crowd, all of whom avoided the spears path as if it was some cursed object. With the spear out of its hands the Valkyrie found itself woefully under-equipped and could do nothing to stop the Undead's fist from meeting it's face. Again and again his attacks hit before he felt the golem crumple beneath the constant assault. The pain from using his hand had already dulled.

Immediately afterwards a surge of power filled him. It was short and barely noticeable, but it was undoubtedly the one thing he'd been searching for: Souls, the energy that powered anything from the lowest Undead to the highest God. The crowd behind him began to murmur once again.

"Hey, did you see that bright light just now?" A rather plump blond pointed at the destroyed remains of the Valkyrie. The crowd winced in response when they saw how bent the metal had gotten simply by a few well placed punches.

"Wasn't it just the Valkyrie dispelling?"

"Can't be. The Valkyrie's still there."

As soon as those words came out, the Valkyrie immediately vanished in a flash of light. Much to the Undead's disappointment, the spear also disappeared with the Valkyrie. Shame, he would've liked to use the spear as a weapon in place of his fists.

"You are...strong, I must admit..." Guiche commented once again. Personally the Undead wondered why he didn't send the sword wielding construct to stab him from behind while he was busy dealing with the spear wielder. Perhaps he was trying to fight fairly? He did spout about honor and various other concepts that he never believed in earlier. Even the most fervent Darkmoon Blades had a sense of fairness about them.

The truth of the matter was that Guiche simply didn't think about it. When he saw the spear pierce through the flimsy tray he assumed he had won. By the time he realized he should mobilize the next Valkyrie it was already too late.

"...Last..." The focused on the sword wielding Valkyrie, which responded to his stare by going into a battle stance, _'If it's anything like the silver knights, then it'll charge forward and leave its sides and back open,'_ The Undead's eyes narrowed when the knight's- wait, he meant Vakyrie. Needed to focus on the present. The Valkyrie charged forward, raising the sword above its head and preparing to strike

Rather than roll to the side again, the Undead quickly hopped back and barely avoid the sword as it crashed down in front of his feet. The Valkyrie didn't bother giving him a chance to recuperate before slashing upwards. This time he did get slashed, though just barely. The loose shirt he wore tore open and he grimaced slightly as the burns felt open air. The bandage had been thinly sliced as well and parts of the reddish skin started poking out.

Another broad swing and the Undead found himself rolling to the side to avoid being caught. All around him the crowd started to laugh as he was forced to continue to roll and jump back to avoid being caught in one of the Valkyrie's wide arcs.

"Haha, so I see you have difficulties fighting against those who wield the sword!" Guiche chuckled as the Valkyrie continued to try and skewer him. Already he could feel his confidence beginning to bolster once again, "Why not step down and accept your defeat? I will grant you mercy in light of the struggle you've put up." The Undead didn't want to admit that the blond brat had a point: He had always had difficulty fighting those who wielded the blade more than everything else.

Not a chance! The Undead quickly scrambled back as another swing aimed at his neck barely hit against him. He wouldn't be able to fight against this thing if it continued to strike against him. He needed a way to distract it- Aha!

"Oh, what are you up to now?" Guiche gave another loud laugh as the Familiar quickly scrambled to get the folded tray, "Even if you get that pathetic tray back, my Valkyrie will simply tear it down!"

He wasn't planning on using it as a shield. With a hard grip, he picked up the bent metal again and observed it slowly, _'Durability's nearly gone. One hit and it'll be destroyed,' _Rather than place it in front of him against as cover, the Familiar tightened his hold against the shield and raised it above his head. With a deep breath, he launched the tray forward and threw it straight at the Valkyrie's head.

Guiche stopped and stared, mouth open at a loss for words. The crowd as well, though some sputtering could be heard from them. The entire Valkyrie's head had been chopped clean off, cut off perfectly from the neck up. The Bronze creation gave no reaction before quickly dropping its sword and crumpling to the ground and disappearing. The tray that had been used for the act smashed against the ground before shattering into many pieces. Sham, it made a pretty good shield.

Once again he could feel a piddling amount of souls being added to his repertoire. Nobody bothered to comment on the spectacle; they were still shocked from the sight of a tray being used to cut off a a golem's head.

"Th-This is impossible!" For once, the over-dramatic statement wasn't followed by another twirl of his rose. The Undead gave a small smile at that. He always loved it when his enemies commented how impossible it was for them to be beaten and how insulting it was for them specifically to be beaten by someone as 'puny and mortal' as him.

The crowd's momentum immediately changed.

"Haha, Guiche can't even beat a commoner!"

"Your runic name doesn't suit you, Guiche. Perhaps you should change it to 'The Rust!"

The crowd immediately turned on him once he no longer had the advantage. The Familiar felt no joy or satisfaction from it. They would turn on anyone and side with the one who was winning, regardless if it was him or his opponent. Perhaps Gough was right; it was simply human nature to be selfish and only look out for oneself, damning all the rest.

"Guiche, stop this duel now!" He could see his master pushing her way to the front of the crowd, "My Familiar's proven to be more than your match. Stop it now before it escalates!"

The crowd added a few more jeers. Guiche tightened his grip on the rose wand and gritted his teeth. This commoner dared to insult him? Him, the fourth son of the House of Gramont and his father's youngest son? He was not about to lose his honor against a commoner actor using a serving tray!

Much to the Undead's non-surprise, Guiche refused to surrender and another petal fluttered from the wand down onto the green earth. Another Golem was summoned, but this time it was different. While the previous golem's were obviously armored, they were lacking in detail and much protection.

The one in front of him was more detailed, with ornate signs and symbols on different parts of its body and thicker plating that needed either a strong weapon or warrior to pierce. Rather than the short sword or spears wielded by the previous three construct's, this one held an ornate longsword which glistened well under the midday sun on its right hand and a rather large kite shield on its left. The construct reminded him eerily of the Black Knight's he'd fought on his way to the Kiln: Stoic, focused, and extremely dangerous. He could feel his nerves shoot up nervously at the memory.

With a wave of his hand the construct rushed forward quickly, quicker than those who came before it. The Undead found himself frozen before he heard it, "Familiar,duck!" Instinctively he followed the command and not a second later as the golem cleaved a wide arc with the sword that would have no doubt left him lacking a head if it hit.

"Are you trembling at the sight of my powerful Valkyrie?" Damn it, his voice had gotten annoying again, "The ones you fought previously were simply imitations, frail copies that pale in comparison to the construct you see before you. No you will see the true power of the Gramont name!"

The Valkyrie gripped the sword tightly and lunged forward, aiming down at him with the intent of impaling him to the green earth below him. The Familiar had no choice but to roll to the side. He felt his breath momentarily hitch when the sword landed just a few inches from his ear. Another few inches and he would've been impaled by the ornate weapon.

Too much, it reminded him too much of his early days. When the Black Knights in the Undead Burg chased after him. Unfeeling and relentless they attacked, ignoring every plea or grunt of pain that passed from his mouth. Death reached him many times when he fought the loyal soldiers of Gwyn and, thoughthe Valkyrie was not the same, it reminded him too much regardless.

"Guiche, stop! You're going to kill him!" Louise once again tried to fight her way through the crowd, but none of them budged. Their interest in the conflict had renewed now that it was beginning to get exciting again.

The blond noble ignored her pleas and complaints. He was initially satisfied with simply beating the poor commoner; to make an example of him to ensure that crimes against nobility would not be punished. He wasn't even going to continue to press charges on the maid if he had his way. But now, now that the upstart commoner had refused to take his rightful punishment and had the gall to embarrass him in front of everyone, he didn't care. This commoner might or might not die, but he didn't care. If he did pass from this world then it wouldn't be much trouble for him to not get in trouble.

The Undead stood up quickly and aimed a low kick at the construct's shins, which was met with a general lack of success as the metal barely dented from the strike, "Dance, commoner, dance!" With every wave of Guiche's hands the construct continued to strike. Also unlike its former brethren, the strikes the Valkyrie put out were balanced and professional. The Undead could see why he was proud of it.

He needed to aim for Guiche directly. With that plan of actions in mind the Undead rolled forward and began rushing straight at the blond summoner. Unfortunately for him the Valkyrie sensed his intent and blocked his path, pushing him back with a smash of its shield and a swipe of its longsword. Behind it Guiche smirked at his simply strategy.

Fleeing was the only option he had. Immediately he backpedaled as far as he could go and took deep breaths. He needed to find a way to distract the knight long enough for him to take a shot at its master. Even if he ran at full pelt the construct's enchantments ensured that it would still be able to beat him in both overall speed and agility.

_'...Disarming would be the best course of action,' _There was nothing for it; he had to attack the knight directly if he had any hope in getting to Guiche.

Closing his eyes briefly and muttering to himself that this was a horrible idea, he charged forward. Some of the nobles in the crowd laughed at his bravery (or as they called it, recklessness) and started guffawing quite loudly. The golem met his charge with the same stoic focus and readied its shield, "Look out!"That was Siesta's voice. Up he looked and he found the large golem holding its sword with both hands and preparing to strike down at him. It was too late for him to dodge it.

The sounds of metal cutting flesh resounded over the large courtyard. Louise, Siesta, and various other nobles in the crowd looked away and closed their eyes. None of them wanted to what had happened.

"W-What in the void!?" Guiche's shocked voice was the first to reach their ears. Hesitantly they all looked up and saw a sight most fascinating and morbid: The sword had been blocked, but by no shield. The Undead Familiar grimaced and resisted the urge to scream as the blade pierced against his left arm before stropping. No blood poured from the wound and the sounds of bones cracking were also eerily absent. Undead had naturally stronger bodies than most and it wasn't uncommon for swords, spears, and maces to be blocked by their limbs and bones alone.

The Valkyrie gave no reaction to his struggle and continued tying to press down. Not even an inch did the sword move downward, though the shaking of his hand continued to increase.

"F-Familar..."His master staring at him, somewhat surprised but mostly in fear. The Undead felt somewhat hurt but he knew he didn't have time for sentimentality right now.

"...Die!" In an unprecedented move, her Familiar leaned his head back before rushing forward. A headbutt, though nothing professional, was extremely painful for both the receiver and the giver. The Undead instantly felt a wave of dizziness spread across his head but the Valkyrie was even worst off. It stumbled back, sword dislodging rather audibly from the the pale young man's arm and its shield dropping with a dull thud against the earth.

It was now or never. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he gripped the ornate sword with both arms and pointed the tip straight at the chest before pushing as hard as he could. The sounds of bending metal once again echoed over the large field and the Undead kicked the stunned Valkyrie away with a well placed shot to the stomach.

"No...No way..." Guiche stared down in disbelief as the Valkyrie landed at its feet. One arm bent inwards and the other was missing its shield, like a marionette that had gotten its strings cut. Desperately it tried to move its arms and legs to try and get back up, but the sword ensured it would remain stuck to the ground unless a miracle were to somehow happen.

The Undead choked back a cry as he felt his arm flare up in pain. This was odd. Why was it hurting so much? Was his lack of Estus so debilitating that wounds he could usually ignore were now causing problems for him? Still, he had won. All that was left was to kill the sorcerer and he would be able to claim victory.

"S-Stay back, commoner!" Guiche started waving his wand in a panic, urging the marionette to stand up and defend him once again, "I-I will not allow you to make a fool of me! Stand down now!"

He was the one giving demands now that he'd lost? Truly pathetic. The Undead walked forward, slowly at first before he started rushing forward across the field and to the sniveling Gramont. One punch would be enough to injure him and then he could snap that catalyst in half.

"I said stay back!" With that last demand passing from his lips, he waved his wand around frantically and prayed for a miracle.

Louise and the entire crowd closed their eyes as the Undead was literally a breath away from smacking the poor boy back into the abyss. But no sound came, no cries of pain from Guiche as he begged for his life. Slowly and hesitantly they all opened their eyes, expecting the worst for the poor Gramont boy.

What they saw instead was the exact opposite. Guiche stood there, cowering and blubbering but completely unharmed. Louise's Familiar, on the other hand, was not so lucky.

A blade had impaled itself onto his stomach, the Valkyrie wielding it somehow managing to stab him despite its bent appendage. The Familair stared down in disbelief as the kneeling Valkyrie impaled the sword deeper against his stomach before stopping halfway. It's command to protect its master was complete and it would stab deeper only when he ordered it to.

No one was as shocked as Guiche himself. He felt many things at the moment: Relief that he didn't die, surprise that his Valkyrie managed to follow his command, and disgust at the sight in front of him. Now that the anger and adrenaline had disappeared did he truly realize what happened: He'd killed someone in cold blood. Spell or not, it was by his command and his command alone that the commoner's life was extinguished. His bravado from earlier was replaced with fear. He had killed someone, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

He felt sick. Wasn't this nobility? To duel with honor and to accept the death of the opponent when they came? Why did he feel so sick? His confidence and smug superiority eroded away.

The Familiar stared down at the Valkyrie once again before a coldness started to spread across his body. He was dying again, this familiar feeling was too unique for there to be another explanation. His knees buckled beneath him and with his fading breath he tried to pull out the sword. He could only reach the Valkyrie's shoulders before his life began to ebb away from him and he found himself too weak to retaliate.

"M-Mister Familiar!" Siesta tried to rush forward, only to be held back by some of the sympathetic nobles. Servant or not, staring into the face of a recently deceased friend as their life faded from them was a punishment that no one deserved.

Louise just stared forward, wide eyed and trying to form coherent thoughts and words. Her Familiar just died.

Guiche bounded forward slowly, hesitantly walking towards the barely breathing Familiar and the Valkyrie kneeling in front of one another like some kind of twisted statue. Once again there was no blood that poured forth from the wound, and yet he was obviously dying. He crouched down when he got close enough and couldn't stop the look of disgust that reached his face; the commoner was dead, his lips parted open slightly but no breath came out of his mouth. There was nothing that could be done for him now.

In a rather uncharacteristic fashion, Guiche separated the Commoner's hand from the Valkyrie's and let it slide down as a show of respect. With a solemn nod, he dropped the hand from his grasp and let it fall slowly to the hilt of the sword. As his father taught him, the dead needed to be shown some respect no matter their social class.

As soon as the pale hand touched the hilt, the runes atop his knuckles started to grow a bright blue. Guiche didn't have time to check what was happening before he felt a hand close around his neck and the air being choked out of him.

"...The darksign...brands the Undead..." The entire crowd stepped back as the recently deceased Familiar stood up from the ground. His left hand gripped the hilt of the longsword tightly and his left hand continued to choke Guiche as he stood up, "All humans...wish for death...but it shall never come to them..." He continued to intone in an emotionless voice.

Sensing its masters life was in peril, the Valkyrie once again stabbed the sword deeper into his stomach as hard as it could. The Undead gave a cry of pain and removed his hand from the struggling noble, who immediately backpedaled away from his attacker the first chance he got.

The Familiar gripped the sword with both hands before loudly kicking the struggling Valkyrie away. Unlike his previous efforts, this time the armor tore away from his attack and shattered into many pieces once it hit the ground again. Ignoring the larger intakes of souls he received, the Undead grabbed the hilt of the longsword with both hands before pulling as hard as he could against it.

The cocky noble could only blanch as the Undead Familiar pulled the sword out of his body before depositing it for use in his right hand. Guiche's reaction to the scene in front of him would have been comical if not for the fact that he was most likely going to get very injured from the rather angry and now recently armed Undead.

_'What's happening?'_ The Undead felt lightheaded and he gripped the sword in his right hand. An unfamiliar power continued to surge through him and he felt...good. Better than good, he felt powerful. It was the same feeling he got when he received a massive intake of souls from killing a particularly powerful and stupidly cheap monster (Bed of Chaos).

Guiche waved his rose wand and three more Valkyries were summoned. These ones wore crude armor and even cruder weapons, worse than even the first ones he'd summoned. Magic required focus and calmness, so it wasn't a surprise that he couldn't do much in his panicked.

The first construct sloppily charged forward, raising the spear it held in a clumsy attempt to impale him. The Undead didn't even bother to take his sight off Guiche and simply grabbed the messy golem's hand mid swing before snapping it off with some slight movement. He kept the spear in his left hand before stabbing the construct with the sword on his right.

The second construct used a mace and attempted to attack him from above. The Undead gave a slight look up before slashing the entire arm clean off its hinges, taking making the mace fall down rather lamely. Before the construct could hit the ground he impaled it with his spear before nonchalantly tossing it aside like a doll.

That was two down, and now he only had one to go. What was happening to him? Power kept flooding his system and the runes on his left hand continued to brighten as he held both the spear and sword in tandem. He could also feel his wounds healing rapidly; the holes on his stomach and arm started to heal and the burns on his skin slowly disappeared from view till they were no longer there. It was like a healing miracle or multiple Estus flasks thrust upon him.

The third one was hardly any more of a challenge that its last two brethren. It tried to lunge forward and attack his chest, but a dodge to the side and a single arc from his new sword later and it found itself missing most of its upper body before crumpling rather anti-climactically against the ground. Now there was only one left.

"Stay back!" Guiche waved his hand in order to summon more golem's, but none came. He tried again, this time trying to dispel the weapons he created in order to buy himself some time, but his grip on them remained strong even as the discarded golem's were dispelled with the wave.

The Familiar didn't need two weapons for this. He threw the spear close to the young man's foot, causing him to let out a yell as he stumbled back trying to avoid it. Keeping the momentum, the Undead charged forward and grabbed the young man's neck with his left hand and placed the sword against it with his right. One slash, one movement and the sorcerer would find himself having a hard time breathing.

"Please..." Guiche held his left hand frantically and stared at him eye to eye, "Please...don't kill me...I'm sorry..."

He was sorry? Apologies weren't enough to erase the grueling fight he had just been put through. Death came for them all, and subsequently death left them all once they revived in the nearest bonfire. Why was he so scared of dying? It was painless and a minor annoyance at most.

"Don't kill him!" His right hand was pulled back forcefully by the ringlet haired girl from earlier. Where did she come from? "Don't kill him! He may be a womanizing pervert, but he's still my fiancee! Don't kill him, please! I'm begging you!" Try as she might, she couldn't move the Undead's grip for even a single inch, "Please, I'll make sure he apologizes to you and your master for what he's done. So please don't kill him!"

"M-Montomrency..!" Guiche choked out at the sight of his fiancee.

Again this girl confused him. She was angry and violent with him earlier, but now that he was in danger she suddenly feared for his life? If she was so worried then she should just stay in the nearest bonfire and wait for him to revive there, maybe with a humanity on hand to stop him from Hollowing and retain his boyishly handsome appearance intact.

"Familiar, let him go right now!" Louise stomped forward and grabbed his left hand, "You've won! You don't need to kill him!"

His master as well. All three of them feared death so much that they were willing to beg that even their enemies be spared? Why? He couldn't understand it. Why were they so scared? Why did his master want to stop him? He would be alright even if he did kill him. His choice in the Kiln practically ensured that the bonfires would remain powered for thousands of years to come.

"A-Ah...Montmorency, run..." With his free hand, he grabbed his fiencee's hand and held it tightly, "Remember that nickname I got you," Montmorency nodded rapidly, "At least...I get to see my Sun one last time before I go."

**"Ahhh, the sun! Finally, I have found it!"**

"Aaaarrrgggh!" The Undead's grip on his sword loosened and a terrible pain began to spread across his head. Montmorency took his careless loss of grip as the chance to grab her Fiancee's hand and pull him away from the struggling Undead. The two stared at the Undead as he flailed against the ground and screamed.

"**I have...I've found my very own sun!"**

He saw it again. The cramp passageway leading to Lost Izalith, the giant bugs that impeded his way with every step, and then the door. The shortcut that would allow him to skip passing the lava-beds and go directly to the Bed of Chaos.

**"I...am the sun!" **

Solaire stood there, smiling as he entered. On his head stood a maggot burning brightly than anything he had ever seen before. Solaire laughed as he pointed it out before trying to impale his friend, a manic grin on his face and a a bolt of lightning on his left hand.

**"Yes, I did it...I did!"**

"Solaire...please stop..." Louise frantically gripped her Familiar's shoulders as he continued to spout out words she didn't understand, "Fight it...please...I don't want...to kill you!" The burns from his body started to re-appear again as the runes on his hand continued to dull. Louise felt herself sicken at the sight but she continued to grip her Familiar tightly. She wasn't going to let him go.

**"Rejoice! I have found what I've been seeking!"**

He struggled against his friend. Blow against blow, shield against magic. Solaire continued to attack him despite his pleas and the Chosen Undead had to face him as a true enemy. He didn't know how long their struggle lasted, but he found himself the eventual winner of their match. Even as the life continued to ebb away from him slowly, Solaire's smile never left his face.

**"Ahh...it's over. ...My sun...is setting...it's so dark."**

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." Pain started to overwhelm him again. His power was gone, replaced only with the hollow feeling of emptiness at his victory. He had won against his friend and proved the better champion...but he felt no joy at the inevitable conclusion. All he had was the life of his friend, the life he had taken because he wasn't good enough to protect him.

His regrets were the last thing that passed through his mind before everything turned to black.

**Well, thank fuck that atrocity of a fight scene is over and done with. Thank you anyone who struggled through that catastrophe with me and I hope it wasn't too bad that you got turned off from the story. I didn't have a beta when doing the fight scene and I hope it's alright. I'll re-do it if it's so horrible that it turns people off from the story.**

**Anyway, another question for you guys: Can anybody clue me in on the actions of the Germanian Emperor (if he even shows up in the canon) and/or the Pope of Romalia? I know at least that the pope is not well liked in the spacebattle forums apparently because of his actions. The thing is, what exactly did he do to earn so much ire? I'll need to know since the politics are a main topic in this fic.**

**I've also figured out what I'm going to replace what the staff of destruction with, seeing as a rocket launcher wouldn't make sense for this fic. Many of you will know it when you see it...or read it, as the case may be.**

**And for Piterio and anybody else interested in romance. Look below.**

**Now let's get to something some of you have commented on: The romance. Let's nip this in the bud before it gets problematic later on. I'll be listing each and every possible option and giving why they can and can't be an LI. I'd like everybody's comments on this and what they think.**

**Siesta of Tarbes - Now she's the safe option here. The nice girl, the girl next door, the down to earth hard working girl that puts a smile on your face. Her idealistic ideas of romance make her a great foil to the Chosen Undead's cynical view of trusting relationships. So she seems like an awesome option, right? Well...not so much. **

**Siesta is the Undead's first friend in Halgakenia and the first person who hasn't tried to stab him or order him around yet. And, as many of you may have tried, trying to romance a friend is stupidly awkward when you don't know what you're doing; and the Chosen Undead definitely has no idea what he's doing. Sure the anime portrays Siesta as - pardon my language - pretty slutty, the novel and manga shows her to be more meek and more emotionally deep in comparison so I'm using that. That and the Chosen Undead doesn't respond much to fanservice in general since, again as many of you probably know, removing armor mid-combat is a very viable strategy many of us use to lighten our load and save endurance (saved me when fighting against Ornstein/Smough, Kalameet, and 4 kings). Being naked doesn't elicit much of a reaction out of him.**

**Tabitha/Charlotte Helene Orleans - I'm not arguing these two got seriously screwed over and had their skills used by a bunch of assholes. The difference is scale: Charlotte's was more personal since they targeted her mother and then used her afterwards. Not to mention the fact it was her own uncle and family who did this, so the only people she thought she could turn to were gone as well. By contrast the Chosen Undead was dicked over by...a bunch of people he never really trusted or had a personal connection to. Okay, his end fate was arguably more horrible than what could happen to Tabitha, but the emotional impact of betrayal was never present. **

**So the saying "Birds of a feather flock together" also apply here. The thing is, is it really a good idea to place two emotionally and mentally scarred people together and expect nothing bad to happen? In my experience, you need someone their polar opposite in order to coax them out of their shells and make them come out. That and, though this might come off as petty, her appearance doesn't exactly inspire romance. When I see her I don't think "Wow, that just makes me want to romance her" but "Damn, I want to give her hug after all she's been through". She seems more like a sister than a lover, at least in my personal opinion.**

**Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst - If anyone deserves the phrase "Really gets around", it would have to be Kirche. Not only does she take multiple boyfriends/lovers in all forms of the media, the anime heavily implies that she sleeps with them to boot (though given that this is the anime we're talking about, it could just be adaptation decay in effect). Despite this she does show a kind side and she doesn't seem to care about social standing, class, or even age/appearance provided she likes them well enough, as established by her attraction to Colbert later in the story. That's also the main reason against pairing with her: She already has an established attraction to someone who isn't the MC. I know Colbert doesn't share her attraction, but hey, it doesn't stop her from trying.**

**Tiffania Westwood - Ah, the nicest elf I've ever seen in anime; in more ways than one - and I'm not talking about her weapons. Not only is her personality and innocence extremely likeable, but her extreme selflessness and taking care of orphans despite her own ordeals really puts her in a very good light. She also has void magic similar to Louise, and yet she shows more control and lacks the temper or unpredictability the pinkette has. So again she sounds like the perfect girl to be both a lover and a friend. **

**The problem? She looks way too similar to Dusk of Oolacile. Seeing as I'm adding originality and connections to the Dark Souls media in this fic, her similar appearance is way too juicy to pass up as a plot point. And given the Chosen Undead's interactions with Dusk include simply saving her and then finding her corpse 1000 years later, it's extremely awkward for the both of them. I'm not saying that Tiffania is Dusk or something silly like that, but she reminds him way too much of her and his experiences fighting Manus. Considering how Tiffania also has trouble with romance in general, the romance might turn shoujo-esque if I pair them together.**

**Henrietta de Tristain - Princess of Tristain and soon to be its Crown Sovereign. This one is arguably the hardest for both parties: The Chosen Undead has...issues with princesses (and leaders in general) due to Anor Londo and Henrietta's in a political marriage with the King of Germania; the most warlike country, but ironically also the most progressive of them all. I'd like to focus on her political actions more and show that sometimes you have to do some evil to do a lot of good. Along with actually showing Germania since I don't think it's ever appeared in the Tsukaima canon, despite every other country being shown. I'm rather interested in the so-called barbarian country and how different it must be.**

**She also has the same problem as Tabitha: Any lover she takes is an instant target or looked on as a gold digger after power. It's one thing to have an affair with a noble, it's completely something else to have one with someone who's royalty. You can see Henrietta struggling with this in season 4 of the anime. Now I might be a bit biased in my choice since Henrietta's one of my favorite girls in the series, so I want your opinions on this.**

**Irukwukwu/Sylphid - Seeing as she's an attractive female that at least looks like a teenager, I'm just listing her down here for randomness' sake. This romance is non-existent and I'll only go this route if I want to get a good laugh out of some people. The Chosen Undead is attracted to Sylphid...just not in the ay you'd expect. You'll see what I mean when the next chapter comes out. That and this Chosen Undead has dragon phobia, Syplhid seems to love eating way too much, and he's practically a walking barbecue so...yeah.**

**The Chosen Undead himself - He's the biggest problem when it comes to romance. He has no problem staring at the opposite gender even if they're completely naked, but holding their hand is already a prize accomplishment for him. A kiss for him is basically tantamount to declaring his eternal dedication for a person, hence why it's a good thing he doesn't remember Louise's ritual. He's actually pretty innocent when it comes to something other than fighting or strategy.**

**That's all the LI's I'm listing so this chapter doesn't pad out. I'll add the rest of the possible romances like Agnes or Cattleya depending on where I take the story, but as of now these are the mains.**

**Anyway, that's all for now. Please read, review, and comment on what you liked and disliked.**


	5. Aftermath

**Well, here's yet another chapter for Dark of Zero. You know I really should focus on my other fics first, and yet I can't help but enjoy writing this more for some reason. I guess I'll just finish up this chapter first and then continue.**

**Now as always, I'll be answering some questions/worries/comments from the reviews.**

**Aleucard: This Chosen Undead went through the typical "Good guy" playthrough of Dark Souls. Meaning that he went out of his way to help people and never killed anyone after they turned neutral even if they attacked him. This means that he didn't kill 'Trusty' Patches or Marvelous Chester despite the both of them attacking him. He did kill Petrus after he stumbled onto him trying to kill Rhea - which you can't do in-game - but hey it's for story purposes.  
**

**Oh, and his relationship with Quelaag's sister is the same as in canon: He fed her the extra 70 humanity because he felt so guilty about Quelaag. Note that he doesn't feel bad for killing Quelaag herself; she attacked him with no explanation so he shouldn't feel bad for defending himself. He just felt guilty for the poor girl because now she's lost her one and only caretaker. The Old Witch's ring was basically a giant twist of the knife for him. The canon game even implies that your character is crying when he meets her because he realizes the consequences of his actions.  
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**Lastly, no he can't use the wands as catalysts. He can try but the only thing he'd get is an explosion similar to Louise. Thing is, the catalysts and the Tsukaima wands are different in terms of spells they're meant to cast. Soul Arrows are fundamentally different from Ice spears. I made note of this in the previous chapter notes. He'll temporarily be able to access a max level flame pyromancy glove during the foquet arc, but he loses it rather quietly and has to get his own. Kirche should be able to help with that.  
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**GB - Well I'm not claiming to be original, so sorry about that. Seeing as this is the nth fic that features Louise summoning someone other than Saito, this shouldn't come as a surprise.  
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**Lunatic Pandora1 - THanks for the advice:D I'm taking note of that for future chapters.  
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**Blinded in the bolthole - Thank you for the detailed response. I agree with you on Cattleya and I like the fact that you're considering what the females stand to gain in the relationship rather than just the CU. Oh, and Cattleya obviously reminds him of the Fair Lady. He even likens Eleanore/Louise to Quelaag later on.  
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**Also, I agree with you that I can live without fight scenes. I hate writing them and much prefer dialogue, world building, or exposition. However, seeing as I can't get away with "Insert fight scene here" and immediately skipping to the conclusion, I'll have to keep doing them. Thank God the Fouquet arc has little actual fighting.  
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**Piterio - Sorry, I'll try to cut down on them...after this chapter. The punchline for this chapter requires he think in game mechanics else it wouldn't work. You'll also see what I mean when I say he's attracted to Sylphid.  
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**Oh, and this might be just the cynic in me talking, but a romance with no logic won't last long. Saito even says so in canon when he rejects Henrietta during the Tristanian Holiday arc: He can't replace Wales and it made no logical sense for him to try to.  
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**Nix's Warden - Well unless he can light a bonfire, there's very little he can do with that excess souls other than give them away. Hence why the Gandalfr runes act like a crutch in early story, regardless of how little he likes using it.  
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**ArmorOfGeddon - Woohps, thanks for the heads up about Guiche! I'll have to see if I can fix that typo soon.  
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** .coronado72 (can't type in full name for some reason) - Kirche seems to be getting a lot of attention doesn't she? I'll write my thoughts on that later along with Henrietta.  
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**Drake202 - I know Kirche likes fire Familiar's, but I didn't think she liked burn victims. The CU has pretty realistic burn wounds and looks like fricking Two-Face: Jigsaw Edition. He won't find a cure until towards the end of the Fouquet arc. I know Kirche doesn't mind plain people, but does she not mind injured or ugly people?  
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**Demon's Anarchy - You know I can't tell if that's "H-Holy **** that was awesome!" or "H-Holy **** this stinks like ass!". Sorry, I'm not psychic.  
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**Reaper81609 - No please, send me any comments or tips. I'm not a very good writer and I love feedback from my readers. The only reason I write is so I can continue to improve, and advice from my readers is very much welcome:)  
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**Chaos Theory - Again, I have no plans for that at the moment, otherwise it would make Gwyn's soul, Manus soul, and the Dragon Head stone pointless. I will say that he has access to things that would absolutely break the game if you had it, and I'm not talking about the Gandalfr runes. You'll see what I mean.  
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**Kyugan - You'll see what I mean when I say he's attracted to Sylphid:) Oh, and he didn't kill Priscilla. If he didn't kill 'Marvelous' Chester and 'Trusty' Patches then he wouldn't kill someone who only wants to be left alone.  
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**TooLazyToLogin and Hades Revolution - And coming neck in neck with Kirche, there's Henrietta. Now I mentioned this once and I'll say it again: This will probably be the hardest romance to write, mostly because each of them have issues with one another. The CU is very mistrustful of princesses (considering his experiences with Gwynevere/Gwyndolin) and nobility in general. Meanwhile, Henrietta is unsure if she actually likes him or she's just trying to find a stopgap solution/replacement for Wales (an issue she dealt with in canon). That and it's kinda effed up if both her lovers end up being Undead:p ...Though technically Saito counts as well after the battle of Saxe Gotha.  
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**But I do disagree with the two of you saying that there's no other Henrietta shipping fics. Henrietta's been paired in a couple of Kamen Rider and Naruto fics,and she has at least three in the Original Archive. So it's not like she hasn't been paired yet or this is the first time.  
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**BTW: I thought I should write down a sort of stats list for The Undead while I'm here. And in case anyone's wondering: The reason his scars don't heal is because he's under a constant "Power Within" pyromancy and he can't turn it off till he gets another glove. This isn't really a spoiler since it explains how he bent the metal of the Valkyrie's in the earlier chapter.  
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**Name: Familiar(?)  
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**Class: Familiar.  
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**Soul Level: 10  
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**Vitality: 14  
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**Attunement: 12  
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**Endurance: 12  
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**Strength: 13 (Augmented by Power Within)  
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**Dexterity: 13 (Augmented by Power Within)  
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**Resistance: 10  
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**Intelligence: 14 (Boosted up to 40 with a good catalyst and Gandalfr powers)**

**Faith: 2 (Not surprising given his experiences)  
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**Armor: Loose shirt, loose pants, and old boots. Sometimes wields a tray. The Commoner set. If you need an image, the look at Ezio Auditore's attire during the siege of Moterriogioni at the beginning of brotherhood. Nothing fancy, but practical for something a commoner would wear.  
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**Weapons: Construct sword.  
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**With that done, let's start!  
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* * *

"Mr. Colbert, please explain the situation again in detail."

Mr Colbert nodded solemnly, making sure his grip on the small paper didn't waver, "Yes, well...it appears that there was a duel in the Vestri courtyard not too long ago," He waited for the old headmaster to nod before continuing, "This is a rare case, however, because the duel technically hasn't broken any rules due to its...unique nature."

Miss Longueville spoke first, "What do you mean unique nature? Don't the rules expressly forbid duels to take place so long as a student is in Academy grounds?"

"W-Well, yes I suppose so," Colbert coughed awkwardly into his hand before answering, "Specifically, the rules forbid to aristocrats or any member of the nobility to fight a serious duel. Practice duels are technically considered legal due to their friendly nature and place in training."

Once again, Miss Longueville spoke before the headmaster could, "So was this a practice duel then? If so, then this should not be a problem. The male aristocrats frequently challenge one another in play-fighting and make believe epic tales. 'Duels'," Neither of the two males missed the sarcastic way she said the word, "happen all too frequently in this academy."

Professor Colbert and Headmaster Osman were quite aware of her dislike for nobility, and neither of them had a problem with it. After all, one of the main reasons the Headmaster hired her in the first place is that she was honest and didn't try in any way or form to suck up to higher authority unlike the other teachers (Ms Chevreuse immediately popped into both their minds). When the three of them were in this room, they spoke frankly and without hesitation.

"No, this wasn't a practice duel," Colbert sighed before looking at the paper again, "The rules forbid aristocrats from fighting with one another due to the damage either would cause to both themselves and the property. However," And this was when Colbert released another sigh, "an aristocrat having a duel with a commoner...or Familiar, as the case may be, technically isn't considered as illegal or rule breaking simply because it hasn't happened before."

Miss Longueville sucked in her tongue and gave an annoyed grunt. The teacher and old man did so as well, at least inside their head. They had practice in holding in their reactions from many years of dealing with the inner nobility.

"Explain the situation clearly please, Mr. Colbert." Old Osman asked politely.

"R-Right, let's start from the beginning: Not too long ago, Mr. Guiche de Gramont was caught...philandering with two females," The Old headmaster chuckled slightly despite the situation while the tired secretary simply gave an annoyed shake of her head, "Yes, well, he claimed innocence on his part and accused a passing maid of making him look guilty."

"So did the maid get forced into a duel?" Miss Longueville asked.

"No, actually that's not the case," The professor grabbed his glasses and wiped them nervously, "Miss Valliere's Familiar interfered and Mr Gramont's accusations immediately shifted to him. He challenged him to a duel in order to retain his honor and the Familiar accepted."

"Wait, what do you mean he accepted?" Miss Longueville interjected, "As I recall, Familiar's can't talk nor can they agree to anything their master doesn't agree to. Did you mean Miss Valliere accepted on her Familiar's behalf?"

Both Colbert and Osman flinched slightly. Right, they hadn't told young secretary about the so called Human Familiar; mostly because they themselves had no idea what was going on. Colbert didn't get a chance to look at the runes on his hand before they had to rush him to the clinic and Miss. Valliere was very sullen last her saw her and refused to entertain questions on her Familiar.

"Well, this might take a bit of explanation," Colbert started, "If you would please get Miss. Valliere, I'll explain clearly. I would rather she be here to hear this."

The green haired secretary nodded and made her way to the office's entrance, "Oh, and one more thing," Colbert called after her, "Please make sure that Miss Valliere's Familiar goes with her if possible. He should be recognizable enough when you see him. I'd like to ask him a few questions as well."

Old Osman sighed, placing a weary hand on his desk. Dealing with nobility had been getting harder over the years. In his time nobles like Karin of the Heavy wind or Queen Marianne the Wise were the norm rather than the exception. Nowadays finding a noble that actually followed the doctrine of "Live with Honor" and "Serve as a protector to others" was both incredibly rare and an exercise in futility. The best he could hope for was one who didn't throw their weight around simply because they could, and even then it wouldn't stop them from displaying that smug sense of superiority everyone else seemed to do.

"So does this mean that this commoner got injured when he fought in the duel?" Old Osman asked warily. He was already dreading the answer at this point. What else could have happened? The commoner won a duel without using magic or weaponry? He highly doubted that. He didn't even get his daily dosage of seeing what his secretary's undergarments were today. Shame, that would have helped tide him over.

And at least the Commoner wasn't dead. Given that Colbert explicitly told his secretary to bring him along as well for questioning, he must've been alive in at least some form. Perhaps the 4th son found it in his heart to show restraint and mercy.

"Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Mr. Gramont succeeded in killing him."

Okay, that wasn't exactly what he was expecting. The Old Headmaster paused from his musing to cough rather loudly into his hands at the news, "P-Pardon me, did I hear you right Professor Colbert? I could've sworn you asked Ms. Longueville to direct Miss. Valliere's Familiar here and not...carry his corpse," He grimaced at the image, "Did I hear you wrong in either account?"

"Oh no, you heard right on both accounts," Old Osman gave an incredulous look at the balding professor, "Please don't look at me like I'm crazy," He shrugged his shoulders, "According to the student's testimony's, Mr. Gramont's bronze Valkyrie managed to impale him in the stomach and he did stop breathing and moving entirely."

Okay, that meant he was dead, "So why did you ask Ms. Longueville to fetch him? We can't ask questions to a corpse." Osman replied evenly.

"Ahahaha, that's the thing," Colbert coughed awkwardly into his hand, "He's not dead. Or rather, the student's say that he...came back...to life."

* * *

People usually weren't allowed to visit freshly bedridden patients. The reason given by the nurses was that the ramblings of worried friends and loved ones interfered heavily with their spells and bandaging, putting the lives of their charges in danger. As such there was a grace period of about 6 hours when a patient reached stable condition till any visitor's were actually allowed into the clinic.

This was not the case here.

The clinic currently had three occupants: 2 females and 1 male. Or rather, 2 conscious females and 1 unconscious male. The male laid down on a bed with many parts of his body and even his head covered in a thick white bandage. The two females were the exact opposite; the maid stayed by his side, mumbling prayers to God and Founder that her friend would be alright. The noblewoman contented herself to stomping back and forth on both sides of the room like she wanted to throttle something.

"Stupid Familiar, stupid Familiar, stupid Familiar, stupid Familiar!" Louise stomped heavily on the ground, each step getting heavier and heavier as she continued to walk, "First he challenges Guiche to a fight and then he gets himself killed! I wasn't the only one who saw that, right?" The maid nodded meekly at her question, though she didn't notice, "And then he pulls the sword out and nearly kills Guiche! What in the void is wrong with him?"

Siesta didn't answer, only continuing to look sadly at the unconscious form of her friend. The bandages he had from earlier were replaced with new ones, but she knew it was pointless: She'd seen the nurses trying and failing to cure his wounds with water magic before bluntly stating that the only thing they could do was cover it up like they did last time. She felt enormous pity for him as every breath seemed to come out even slower and more ragged than the last.

"And then he suddenly starts mumbling nonsense about Undead and something called Solaire!" Despite her complaints, Louise was very worried for her Familiar as well, and more than a little scared of what she'd seen. He had been impaled rather painfully and she could still hear the sound of the metal piercing his flesh echo in her ears. She remembered her servant's calm acceptance of his injury and how he got back up despite the mortal injury.

Her parents taught her that, despite their higher place in society, they were all eventually equal in the eyes of their Founder in death. You can beat a servant, scold him, or even whip him, but killing them was forbidden if you believed yourself a true aristocrat. Many aristocrat's didn't believe this and killed commoner's who served underneath them, but the Valliere's followed the ideals of true nobility as given by their Founder Brimir.

"Miss Valliere, will he be alright? He was...stabbed," Both maid and noblewoman shivered when they remembered what happened, "U-Um...the nurses said they couldn't cure him...but is he going to be okay?"

What happened there? Were they simply hallucinating what they saw and he managed to sidestep at the last minute? Neither of the two could find an explanation. Siesta knew nothing about magic or combat and Louise knew of no spell that allowed one to survive getting impaled somewhere vital.

"Wh-Who knows," Louise tried to act nonchalant. Who cares if her Familiar got stabbed? It would've been his own fault, not hers, "I-I even bowed my head in order for him to escape with just a small beating, but he refused it. He deserved what he got..." Louise didn't believe her own words for even a second. Guiche was clearly the one in the wrong and she couldn't deny she felt elation when she saw him panicking and begging. But her Familiar was going to kill him. Did even he deserve that kind of fate?

_'Oh, and that's the reason you bought that expensive medicine right?' _Her mind was nagging her about her previous course of action. Before going to the clinic she'd sent a messenger bird with 1000 Ecu in order to purchase an expensive medicine. She was going to give it to him discreetly once it arrived, making sure that none of the maid's or servants saw her. 'One must show caring, but never openly or with recognition'. The words of her mother echoed back in her head. Her mother did evidently love them, but showing it was something that would never happen.

"H-How could you say that?" Despite herself, Siesta found herself standing up rather abruptly and rounding onto the shorter girl, "Is it because he didn't agree to take a beating when he did nothing wrong? Is that why you think he deserves it?"

"He talked back against the nobility! What did you expect would happen?" Louise asked, gritting her teeth in frustration. Why was this servant questioning her? She was lucky she didn't force her out of the clinic, "I offered him an easy way out and he refused it like an idiot! He actually got off easy considering how stupid he was acting!"

"And I suppose you would've taken a beating if you were in his place?" Siesta asked rhetorically, with venom in her voice that surprised even her, "In his place you would've done anything to avoid getting hurt. Or would it not matter just as long as your honor remains intact?" A dry laugh made its way past her throat, "I guess it's also honorable to say you were wrong even when you're clearly not. Nobility is such a great thing..."

Louise stopped her stomping and made her way to the maid, grabbing her rather roughly by the front of her uniform, "And what would you know about nobility, maid? You who washes pots and pans, whose ambitions are nothing more than to make her way through life trying to survive?" She scowled deeply when the maid gave barely a reaction at her scathing words, "You have no idea of the sacrifices we nobles make to ensure the will of our Founder Brimir continues! How we protect the commoners!"

"Protect? What protecting!?" A part of Siesta's mind was telling her to stop arguing but just agree with her. But a larger part told her that she wouldn't have been able to keep her job if he hadn't stood up for her, "Did any of the nobles in that crowd protect him when he was struggling to fight? No, they laughed and pointed like he was some kind of animal for their amusement. Did Lord Gramont hesitate to try and beat him when he thought he could? The Nobility don't protect the commoners, they take and take because they got lucky from birth."

"...It was a duel..." Even Louise could tell how weak that excuse was. Guiche went in there fully thinking he would have the advantage and her peers simply laughed at her Familiar's attempts of attacking his final Valkyrie.

Siesta wanted to stop, she wanted to tell herself that this outburst wasn't worth it since both she and her family would suffer for it. But she was tired. Tired, frustrated, worried, and now annoyed that the Familiar's so called master was so quick to cheapen his actions in favor of the petty concepts such as honor and nobility.

"I used to wish I was nobility when I was younger. I always thought it would be like the life of a princess, but I was wrong. Your actions and accomplishments mean nothing here; it's either you're born into it or you aren't. I would rather keep my pride as a commoner, little as you think it may be, rather than do what others wanted with a smile simply because of honor."

There was so much more Louise wanted to say. Siesta was wrong; there was more to nobility than simply being born the right way. They had duties and obligations that the commoners couldn't possibly understand. She was stopped from doing so by the sight of her Familiar trying and failing to get off the bed and crumpling to the ground in a heap.

"...Aaaah..." The Undead gave an uncomfortable grunt and stood up from his place on the floor, gripping the side table like his life depended on it. Once again he found the place spinning and bright lights blinking in and out of existence like a demented pyromancy spell. Why did this keep happening to him? Nausea and weakness never happened before he came here.

Then again, he usually revived in the nearest bonfire rather than at that way too soft bed. He swore that thing was trying to eat him with how it refused to let him stand up properly. Oh how he missed the cold floor and stone. Resting by sitting down was far more practical compared to lying down. He'd learned that when a skeleton smashed his face in with a mace while he thought he was safe. That was embarrassing.

"F-Familiar!"

"Mr. Familiar!"

He nearly fell over again at the sounds of the two girls loud voices. Why did they have to be so loud? He was standing right here, "Master...Siesta..." He turned to them and gave a curt bow; it was all he could do to avoid falling over, "...Whats...wrong...?" He took note of their worried faces. Did something happen perhaps? He knew he lost that match, so was Siesta in trouble now?

"What do you mean what's wrong!?" Seeing as he was barely able to stand, he could do little to block his short master punching him in the stomach rather roughly. Again it didn't hurt much: Most of an Undead's nerves were either deadened or weakened due to the rotting of their bodies. While they still felt pain, it was mostly negligible till it was deep like a giant hammer bearing down at very painful speeds or a sword threatening to hack his arm off.

He looked down at his body. More bandages had been added, thicker this time and tighter than before. Once again his vision was limited when to his left eye; the right one and chunks of his upper head being blocked by another thick layer of bandages. Honestly he felt very weighed down with all of it on and swinging a sword would be extremely uncomfortable with it on. But his master must've placed these on him for a reason.

"Ms. Valliere, please don't injure him any further!" Siesta interjected.

"...Siesta...?" That's right, she was still here! Did that nobleman not continue his supposed plan to blame her for everything? Strange, he lost their duel and so he forfeited any right of complaint. Wasn't it how it worked here as well? "You're...okay...? Relief flooded into his soft voice. Well, flooded might have been an overestimation. Trickled might have been more appropriate. But It was pretty monumental considering his lack of expression otherwise.

"W-What? Oh, yes! I'm alright thanks to you!" The maid smiled and did a quick bow, "More importantly, are you alright Mr. Familiar? Your wounds looked very serious and Lord Gramont...stabbed you in the stomach." She finished uneasily.

All three of them looked down at his stomach area. While the two females could see nothing due to the bandage covering his mid-section, The Undead could tell already that the hole had already healed. Similar to the nerve endings, various injuries often healed without much difficulty even without the help of an Estus Flask. Regardless, there were still wounds that refused to heal or left permanent marks even in an Undead's cursed body. He himself had two to speak of: First were the flame scars, and the second was the scar.

"...Duel?" The Undead inquired, turning to his master. He had blacked out prior to seeing the results of the match, though he was pretty sure that it counted as his loss. Such was the way of duel, regardless of how unfair it seemed to anyone. He shouldn't have hesitated when it came time to deal the final strike. It wasn't like Guiche (that was his name, right?) would get any permanent damage from a slit neck. He'd come back easy.

"Oh, right. Forget about that!" Louise hastily moved her hands in a 'nevermind' gesture, "Guiche says he's given up and there are no charges being pressed against either me or the maid," He couldn't help but notice that his master's tone clipped slightly in anger when she gestured to the dark haired servant. Did something happen while he was unconscious? Hmm...

For now, The Undead contented himself with nodding and picking up the discarded shirt lying on the chair. He sucked on his teeth slightly and sighed when he saw the slit shaped hole that extended from from the front of the shirt up to the back. It would have to do for now till he got his armors back...speaking of which, where was the blasted thing? He could've sworn at least parts of the armor were intact. And as long as the armor remained intact, he could reforge it with enough souls and a bonfire.

"Mister Familiar, maybe you should change into some different clothes," Siesta suggested, eying the slit in the white clothing, "I could go get some spare clothing from the storage room if-"

"No thanks..." Louise laughed internally at the sight of the maid being interrupted. Sure it might have been petty, but she didn't care. It wasn't right for her to question the duties of nobility, "Repair...easy..." The Undead finished dressing himself and turned back to the table, only slightly surprised by the weapon placed atop of it.

The sword of the Valkyrie, which he had stolen earlier from final Golem. Now that he got a closer look at it, it didn't look as ornate as it did earlier: It was chipped in various places and the bronze coating on the hilt had become duller. Perhaps his usage of it earlier had caused it to break? He distinctly remembered slicing through the Golem's like paper earlier. The blade was most likely strained then.

"Oh, that," Louise's voice filtered into his ears, "One of the nurses brought it here earlier because they thought it was yours. Guiche tried to dispel it earlier when you fainted, but it wouldn't disappear even after all his other Valkyrie's did. He's given up on trying to make it do so already, so I guess you get to decide what to do with it.."

The Undead barely heard her words. He picked up the blade gently and examined it carefully, making sure not to strain the metal any further, "Not...good..." He whispered. The blade wouldn't last more than a few swings and it's strength was lacking severely now that it had been used to cut up the Valkyrie's that stood in his way before. Still, it was better than a broken sword or the first one he picked up lodged in a corpse. It would do for now till he managed to get something better.

Speaking of which, he should finally ask his master about the bonfires, "Master...where-"

The Familiar was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the clinic door opening not so gently. The mismatched group turned and found the green haired secretary entering the room with a stoic and straight posture.

"Miss Valliere, the headmaster has requested your presence in his office," She paused slightly to look at all three of them, her eyes lingering just slightly longer on the bandaged Familiar, "Your Familiar as well, provided he can walk without too much difficulty." She added.

...He'd have to ask later...assuming he didn't forget.

Louise didn't need to ask why both her and her Familiar were being summoned to the Headmaster's office. Obviously the head of the academy wouldn't take what he did without so much as a slap in the wrist. On her way here she could hear her classmates and peers whispering that she either got some kind of monster or a great actor as her Familiar. In either case it didn't bode well for her or her status as a good mage.

"Familiar, you go with Miss Longueville," She pushed the Undead somewhat forcefully when he looked like he was going to complain, "I have to deal with something here first. I already know the way to the Headmaster's office so I'll meet you there."

The pale young man looked at both Louise and Siesta in turn before following the green haired secretary out of the room. To her credit, Miss Longueville didn't so much as raise an eyebrow when the pale Undead followed her rather than some kind of animal as she expected. She wasn't going to question it.

It didn't take long until only the two of them remained in the sanctuary for healing.

Neither Louise or Siesta spoke or even bothered looking at one another. The only sound that echoed all over the rooms was their calm breathing, sometimes followed by the chirping of bird's that came from the outside. They didn't know whether to continue their argument from before or simply stop, leaving it unfinished since neither wanted to hear more criticism levied against their way of life.

Eventually it was Louise who spoke first, "Maid..." She called out evenly, "Understand this: I will not take any more complaints and criticism's levied against both myself and the nobility in general. I will forgive your outburst now and forget this entire fight - if you can call it that - ever happened," The maid's expression soured slightly, but she nodded nevertheless, "But if I hear even a single peep about how you think the nobility is trash from you ever again, then I will make sure you receive the full consequences of your actions. Do I make myself clear?"

And what could a maid like her do but nod? "Yes, Miss. Valliere," She held the sides of her skirt and bowed deeply, " I am...deeply sorry for my outburst and I thank you for finding it in your heart to forgive this humble servant." It was fortunate that Siesta found herself bowing for it hid the intention sewn across her face. She hated doing this; all the servant's did. But what choice did they have?

This was the way of the world.

* * *

Miss Longueville scanned the frail Familiar walking next to her. This was the one who dueled Guiche de Gramont? Not only that, but a proper duel? He looked more like a sickly commoner or a plague victim than a warrior capable of surviving a duel with General Gramont's fourth son. His pale complexion and thin physique certainly did little to help his case. The only thing warrior-like about him was the sword he held in his left hand, and even then his lack of a shield made it look rather silly.

It didn't matter either way. Sword or no sword, shield or no shield, he wasn't a mage. While she of all people knew what commoner's were capable of, she'd seen them get outclassed by mages every time they tried to fight. If he did take to swinging that sword around like a mental patient then either she, Professor Colvert, or Old Osmond would be enough to deal with it.

The Undead stared down at the sword blankly, making sure not to swing it for fear of hitting the guide walking next to him. As he thought, the bandages made moving somewhat stiff and harder in general. Seeing as he didn't have that problem before he woke up, it most likely meant that the amount of bandages on him had increased; particularly for his left arm and stomach area. Given that these cloths were associated with healing, the added padding was for his injures no doubt. He needed to remove the excess in order to get his movement back.

"Stop that," Miss Longueville didn't even bother glancing at his direction before issuing the warning. The Undead paused, arm hanging in the air as he was ready to remove the cumbersome cloth already, "I don't know about the state of your injuries, but there must be a reason that the nurses put so many bandages on you. Don't remove them till you're told."

The Undead pondered her words for a couple of seconds before nodding, though a small frown etched itself into his face. Why did they insist on him wearing these bandages? It wasn't as if it would actually help him at any point. If they wanted to help him then they could lend him an Estus flask or something. He was already beginning to feel a sort of 'hunger' - though he didn't know if he could call it that exactly - since it'd been so long till he had a swig of one. It wouldn't affect his fighting ability, but it affected him personally all the same.

"We're here," The Undead looked up from his bandages and found himself face to face with a wooden door made from the same material of his Master's bedroom. Before he could steel himself for a possible fight, the older secretary pushed the door forward and stepped in. The Undead quickly followed, his master's orders ringing back in his mind.

The room beyond was just as fancy as his master's, though it had less of a feel of a bedroom and more of a public meeting area. It was wide in both length and width, though the room itself wasn't that large compared to the many rooms of Anor Londo. No beds or cushions were placed on the room, instead they were replaced with an oak table at the center with a large window framing behind it. To the sides he could make out a few bookcases containing some thick arcane tomes that he most likely wouldn't be able to understand along with a few other paintings of people that hung on the walls. It was nothing new for him.

"Ah, Miss Longueville," Headmaster Osman smiled in greeting at the young secretary, "I see you've brought our mysterious Familiar over. May I ask where Miss Valliere is?"

"She chose to stay behind temporarily in order to take care of some business," She explained, "She assured us both that she would make our way here once she finished."

The Undead took a look at everyone in the room. The woman who led him here was young, most likely in her early to middle of adulthood. By contrast the two males in the room were way older. The bald man standing to the left was reaching middle age based on the way he looked, though the Undead could tell he was anything but frail or old in his physique. The old man was...old. He couldn't actually tell how old he was, but he emitted an aura similar to Ingward; that of a protector and keeper. He knew and protected more than anyone in the room.

He also felt very wary about staying too close to the balding Professor. He didn't know why. Did he get attacked by him? He didn't remember much so it was always a possibility.

"Well, this might actually be a good thing," Professor Colbert was the first to comment on the situation, "There are some things that I'd like to ask our friend here that I don't want Ms. Valliere to find out just yet. Headmaster Osman, if you will?"

The headmaster nodded and waved a stave around, muttering some incomprehensible words under his breath. Immediately The Undead felt a wave of energy encompass the entirety of the room; unseen and almost unnoticeable. Whatever the spell was, it wasn't meant for attacking or harming. It was similar to Oolacile sorcery in that respect.

"Well, this should grant us some privacy," The old man smiled warmly - a practice he had a lot of practice in - and gestured at the chair in front of the table, "Now, may I please ask you to take a seat? There are a few things that I'd like to ask you and so does Mr. Colbert."

The Undead didn't move from his spot. He already felt wary of staying in a cramped room with 3 people who were no doubt sorcerers in their own merit. The sword he took from the construct wouldn't be enough to protect him in a 3-on-1 fight.

"I know you have reason to feel caution, but I do not intend to do you any harm," To prove his point, Osman gently placed his staff on the wooden table, "See? I'll even let you keep holding onto that sword. I'm at a disadvantage should I choose to attack you, so I have little reason to do so. Don't you agree?"

He of course failed to mention the the other two people in the room who refused still held their own catalysts. Still, the Undead took his willingness to place himself in danger as a sure enough sign that he didn't need to worry. If the old man really did plan on attacking him, then he would've asked any of the other two people in the room rather than place himself at risk.

"...Sorry..." The Undead looked down at the seat before sitting down quickly, muttering an apology as he went. If his master trusted them then he should be safe, although he still couldn't get the suspicious feeling out when he saw the bald teacher.

"Well now, isn't this much better?" Old Osman started, "Now as Mr. Colbert stated, I have a few questions for you that even your master can't answer. As such, we'd like you to answer as honestly as possible without omitting the truth. Can we trust you to do that?" He suddenly clapped his hands together, "Oh, and I almost forgot to introduce ourselves. I'm Headmaster Osman," He pointed at the balding professor, "That man there is Professor Colbert," and finally at the woman, "And that's Miss Longueville. Could we get your name?"

"...Yes..." Though he said that, he didn't know if he could answer as truthfully as they wanted. Much of everything was confusing to him right now and there were still large gaps in his memory from before he linked the fires. Chunks of his memories were outright missing and he had to piece the gaps himself, lest he suffer another breakdown such as the one during the duel, "My name's...Familiar..."

Familiar? Oh dear, that will make calling out to him difficult, "Well, the first thing we'd like to ask is this: Are you human?"

The Undead blinked slowly before the question finally registered in his mind, "...Yes..." If he were more emotive, he might have thought of giving Old Osman an 'are you crazy' stare. Given that he wasn't, he made do with rolling his eyes slightly at the obvious question, "...Human...like you..." He pointed at Old Osman.

"Hmm, I see!" The Undead reeled back slightly at the eccentric old man's loud answer, "Well, I guess I wasn't really expecting a different answer. Now I'd like to ask more personal question: Do you feel the need to drink human blood by any chance?"

Well...that was certainly quite the jump. At his sides, he could see the balding professor and the young secretary palming their face in their hands and muttering something he couldn't make out. He had a feeling it had to do with how the old man was acting, though, judging by the fact that they kept looking at him.

"No...not blood..." Drink blood? That was insane. He hadn't even seen blood for as long as he could remember. Undead didn't need them considering how decayed their bodies were, and the red liquid would've no doubt been a liability in a fight. He heard from Domholl of Zena that when a human (non-undead) got injured, their blood rushes out and they get weaker as a result. How inconvenient! Bad enough that he had to deal with being flattened or diced on a daily basis, but to have to worry about every little cut? Horrible.

"Oh, I see..." Was the old man actually disappointed at his answer? "Yes, yes. I can tell by your surprised expression that you're not lying about your answer."

Well he was certainly disappointed. Vampires were rare in the world of Halgakenia and he thought that the Familiar that was summoned was a member of the night predators. Of course there was the safety of the students to consider, but given how no one reported missing bodies drained of their bodily fluids he took it to mean that, if he was a vampire, then he was at the very least a docile one. He'd heard of those who simply took what little they could and didn't kill humans.

It would also handily explain how he was able to survive getting impaled by the Valkyrie's sword...which he also held in his hand right now. Whoever he was, he certainly had a morbid sense of humor about him. Vampires were also one of the few things that could be classified as both an Undead and a mage, given that they had both long lived lives and the ability to surpass even many mages in magic. It was a good thing they rarely came out to fight.

"Pardon me Professor Colbert, Headmaster Osman. What exactly are you trying to gauge from Ms Valliere's Familiar?" Ms Longueville asked, interrupting the old man's musings, "I understand from the situation that summoning a human Familiar is rare, but what exactly do you mean when asking if he drinks blood?"

Colbert sighed before whispering something into the green haired woman's ear. Immediately her eyes widened and her lips pursed. She wasn't going to ask any more questions.

"Right, let's just get this out of the bag then shall we?" Old Osman leaned back in his chair, "Do you know what a vampire is?"

"...No..." The Undead shook his head softly. The word had no meaning to him and it was the first time he'd heard of it, "...Friend...?"

"A friend? Oh dear me, of course not," Osman laughed slightly at the implication. Being friends with a vampire? That certainly would be quite a sight. What next? Having sexual relations with one? "Just a mild curiosity is all. Please don't mind it."

Right, and he was supposed to leave it at that? Obviously the word meant something else he wouldn't speak it out loud or ask him. Did it have to do with the blood drinking he mentioned earlier?

"Ahem, I would like to ask my question now if possible," Colbert interjected, "Well, Mr Familiar?" Once again he found himself nodding at the impromptu name, "As I understand it, you are now Ms. Valliere's Familiar. Is this the case or no?"

"Yes..." Right, to be this girl's servant till death do them part. Well, it was most likely that he'd die first before her. Being Undead technically allowed anyone eternal life, but most people didn't last long enough for that to really take effect. Most of them Hollowed or were sacrificed to the flames before they got a chance to. He didn't know how long he had left, but he didn't think it would take long till he Hollowed.

"Right, and there is usually a mark to show the bond between Familiar and Master," Colbert was half-lying; it was true that marks did appear, but it only did so in specific and rare cases throughout history. If his theory was right, then this was one of those cases, "Do you have anything similar to that? I would like to see if possible."

It would certainly explain how he survived getting impaled. If Colbert's theory about the runes was true, then it would save them having to ask the confused Undead any questions about his impalement. It was also more comforting to everyone present than the bloodsucker excuse.

The Undead nodded, already beginning to tear away at the bandages covering his left palm. He was stopped from doing so completely by his quite literally barreling through the door of the office.

"Ex-Excuse me, Headmaster Osman!" Louise bowed deeply, "I'm sorry for being late! I had to deal with a wrong package delivery."

What she was referring to was the messenger bird coming back with said expensive medicine she ordered. Given that her Familiar was upright again and refused to accept help, the medicine had effectively turned useless. Immediately she had to go back to the room and make a note explaining her circumstances. Even then she doubted that she could get all her money back considering how hard to make the medicine was and how expensive the reagents must be.

"It's quite alright Ms. Valliere. We were simply planning to look at your Familiar's runes and see if we could find an explanation," Osman explained jovially. Internally he sighed and muttered an incantation under his breath, breaking the silence spell around the room. It would look too suspicious now that Ms Valliere had wandered in.

Louise nodded, giving a relieved sigh at the Headmaster's reaction, "Familiar, show them your runes," She turned to him and ordered.

"...Okay..." Completing the task, The Undead gripped the bandage before pulling it away forcefully, "...Here..." He held up his left hand with the palm facing his body, making sure that the side with the rune on it was shown to everyone.

Colbert's mind immediately clicked in recognition, "Interesting," He unconsciously pushed up his glasses; a habit he showed whenever he found something that piqued his curiosity.

It the runes themselves per se that interested, though that was invariably a large part of it, but rather the fact that the burns on his palms seemed to stop just an inch or two from the runes, exposing his pale skin. It was almost as if the burns refused to go near the signs.

"O-Okay! Familiar, put your bandages back on!" Louise turned away as the familiar nausea began to fill her. Seeing the burnt skin was horrifying and he couldn't imagine how he managed to move around and fight with it on.

"Yes, I do believe that's enough," Both Osman and Colbert nodded, though neither showed the discomfort that the young girl did, "I suppose Mr. Colbert has seen enough of the runes to ensure that he can do his research in peace. For now I'd like to talk to Miss Valliere about the situation."

Both Colbert and Longueville nodded and left the room. The former because he had enough to do his research, and the latter simply because political troubles didn't notice her. Well, that and the fact that she saw Osman's mouse Familiar stalking her and she wanted a nice private place to step on it should it follow her.

"Now, Miss. Valliere," Osman turned to the young student, "As I understand it, your Familiar and Mr Gramont had dueled earlier this day. Am I correct?"

"Y-Yes, Headmaster Osman."

"I won't ask the specifics, but I will say now that it doesn't really matter. Duels are forbidden on academy grounds and Mr. Gramont was aware of this," Old Osman shook his head, "Unfortunately, we can't punish Mr. Gramont for his actions."

"Why so?" Louise didn't really care, but she was curious about it all the same.

"Well, it's simply because nothing like this has happened before," The headmaster explained sadly, "The duel explicitly forbids two nobles from interfering with one another. It says nothing about a duel between a noble and a commoner, or Familiar as the case may be." He gestured to the Undead who was trying vain to bandage himself again, "If it was a duel then it means that your Familiar accepted it, did he not? I'm afraid I can do nothing then."

"No, I understand. Thank you for your understanding," She bowed deeply, grabbing her Familiar's head with her hand and forcing him to as well, "I apologize for causing you trouble and hope that we don't bother you again."

"Oh, and we will not be telling your family as well as Mr. Gramont's. This is both a unique incident and the exact details of the incident are unknown. Many of you classmates are even stating that your Familiar got stabbed through clean with Mr. Gramont's sword. How odd, right?" Osman remarked with fake levity.

"Y-Yes, how odd!" Louise felt herself sweat nervously a the reminder while the Undead gave no indication that he heard it or that he cared if he did (though he was swiftly getting annoyed with his lack of success in bandaging himself up).

She felt partly annoyed that her Familiar was basically getting off scot free despite his actions. She herself was punished severely whenever a spell blew up (which was all the time) and yet here he was getting away with killing a nobleman and practically traumatizing most if not all her peers. Then again, she doubted any punishment would affect him much at all considering he managed to shrug off getting impaled in the stomach.

...She resolved not to think about it again lest the images flow back into her head.

With that done, both Master and Familiar left the room. Osman looked at them one last time before sighing. He was no closer to figuring out what exactly was the situation with Ms. Valliere's Familiar and his Familiar was currently trying not to get stomped by his very irate secretary.

Today just wasn't his day.

* * *

It was only after the two of them managed to make their way to the open courtyard did Louise allow herself to relax. It had been a long day and she wasn't in the mood to deal with anything stressful right now. All she wanted to do right now was curl up into her bed and forget everything that had happened the for the past few hours. Nevermind the fact that her parents would ask where she spent most of her money if not her own usage or the fact that her peers would probably start avoiding her now that they thought that her Familiar was some kind of demon from the void.

"Hey, what's with that scar?"

She didn't notice it earlier, but there was a very noticeable scar extending from both sides of his left palm. Unlike the red skin that covered his hand, the scar was almost a pristine white and was very serrated. It was as if he blocked 5 daggers at once and all of them tried to pry themselves loose at the same time.

"..." The Undead said nothing, content to stare at the scar without a word. It was one of the few memories he never forget.

**"Ahhhh!" **

**The Undead screamed in pain as the pure flame pierced through his armor and he was thrown backwards from the force. In front of him Gwyn slowly stalked forward, eyes empty and unfocused. He was long gone from this world and only his rage kept him going. Rage that the Undead was unlucky enough to be a target of.  
**

**"Damn it!" He cursed and stood up quickly, trying to get his bearings together. He had 5 estus flasks left and his greatsword was starting to weigh him down. The armor of Artorias protected him from Gwyn's flames, but it was only only a temporary measure, "Shield. Where's my shield?"  
**

**He did a quick scan of the area before his insides turned ice cold. His shield - The Greatshield of Artorias - was behind Gwyn. He had thrown it by accident when he felt the heat consume him temporarily and now he was without defense. He needed to get that shield back no matter the cost. **

**Quickly he ran forward, strategy and timing be damned. Gwyn seemed to guess his movement and he readied his own greatsword in response. The Undead cursed to himself before gripping his weapon with both hands and charged straight at him.  
**

**Their swords met briefly before he found himself rolling under the more powerful God and grabbing frantically at the shield. He nearly had a hold of it in his hands before he found himself being flung backwards again flat on his back this time.  
**

**Gwyn wasted no time. He raised his flaming sword and slashed downwards, intending to impale the Undead.  
**

**"No!" The Undead raised his left and used it as a barrier against the swords point. Immediately what little protection his armor gave him disappeared and pain started to envelop his hand. The swords tip had already bypassed his palm in no time flat and it wouldn't take long for it to reach his chest and skewer him completely. **

**"One chance!" He let go of his sword and opened his right hand wide. Immediately an intense flame enveloped his palm. It wasn't for Gwyn, it was for himself. Power within was a dangerous pyromancy. It granted power in exchange for pain. Right now he really didn't have much of a choice, "Oh, this is going to hurt!"  
**

**The second the flame touched his body, pain surged through him. But with it came power. "Damn it!" Gritting his teeth for pain, The Undead pushed his left hand forward, slowly but surely widening the distance between the swords tip and himself. The Lord of Cinder actually seemed to go into shock at his actions and his grip on the sword loosened slightly.  
**

**The Undead didn't waste his chance. Grabbing the abyss greatsword, he wielded it with his one hand and stabbed as hard as he could towards the fallen God. Gwyn looked down and saw the sword halfway impaled to his chest. He gave one breath, just one, before his grip on his sword loosened and he found himself kneeling. The corruption of the blade was weakening.  
**

** Now was his chance. Ignoring the pain in his palm, he grabbed the sword and pulled it out quickly. To kill the Lord of Cinder with his own weapon. Ironic, "Die!" With one last stare into the God's visage, he gripped the sword's handle tightly and swung down.**

"Familiar?" Her Familiar had stopped moving and continued to stare blankly at the scar on his hand. What was the big deal? Scars were common and easy enough to heal with some water magic. She didn't miss the fact that most of the student's who passed by their way immediately turned around at the sight of him. They were scared of him, and she couldn't blame them for it.

Oh well, at least it meant that Germanian tramp wouldn't-

"Oh, Valliere~"

Dear Founder, did fate hate her!? Swallowing her rising bile, Louise turned and prepared to utter a well thought of insult about her rival being fat and how her nutrients all left her brain and went into said excess fat.

"MMMMPPPHHHH!"

Only for said reply to be muffled as she found herself quite literally getting smothered to death by said excess fat. Any outsiders who saw this might have thought they were best friends based on how physically close they were but that couldn't have been further from the truth. The Germanian was taunting her with the one thing she didn't have (she had magic!...Even if it was just a few explosions).

"Oh sorry Valliere, I didn't hear you~"

"Met oww meee! (Get off me)" Louise struggled blindly before managing to push off the amorous Germanian off her, "What do you want, Zerbst? Can't you see I'm busy here?"

"Oh? It seems to me that you're just standing around doing nothing." This 'Zerbst' smiled nonchalantly, "What's wrong Valliere? Something on your mind?"

"It's none of your business, you Germanian dropout!"

The person talking with his master was unknown to him. She was tall, or at least she was taller than his Master. She was also wearing the same uniform as her, though in her case it seemed smaller on her. Was the shirt designed to expose the chest like that or was it personalized for her sake? Might be that it was for the benefit of her chest, which stretched out rather comically unlike the flat plain of his master. He could see how casting became more difficult with them.

The Familiar watched the scene in front of him in complete confusion. Should he intervene for his master's sake? She certainly looked angry, but neither of the two were drawing their catalysts or casting spells. Did that mean all was well?

"I'm asking what you want, Zerbst! I don't have time to deal with you right now!"

"Well, that's quite obvious, isn't it?" Kirche sighed dramatically and feigned a hurt expression, "And here I was worried about you. I mean, what would I do if my rival ended up getting expelled because of an incident like this? Things would get slightly boring if that were to happen."

"Speak for yourself. I for one would love it if you went away and never came back," She gave a frustrated stamp of her foot when Kirche yawned at her insults, "And I'm sure you can find something - or someone - to entertain yourself if you need to. How many are you seeing right now? Three?" She asked scathingly, trying to bait a response from the taller girl.

"Four actually, though I'm pretty sure you know nothing about that," Kirche grinned when Louise's faced turned red in both anger and embarrassment, "After all, your experience in that kind of thing is the same as your magic and your chest size: Zero."

"Well at least it means I'm not a sl-"

"Kyuru kyuru."

The Undead couldn't hear whatever his master said on account of something even more important taking his attention, "...You...?" He knelt down and looked at the Salamander as it sniffed as his exposed arm again, making a sound that he was sure was what it normally sounded like when it wasn't breathing in and out. The Salamander sniffed at his arm again, giving him another curious glance.

Seeing as his Master and her acquaintance weren't going to finish anytime soon, he decided to entertain the creature's request and stuck his hand out. Rather than keep sniffing and observing like before, the salamander actually licked the reddened flesh with it's flame barbed hand.

Oddly enough, he felt no pain at the salamander's touch. It actually felt calming somewhat, despite all evidence pointing to the opposite. A comforting warmth began to spread from where its tongue lapped at and he oddly relaxed the longer it went on.

"Fire," He was knocked out of his reverie by a calm voice calling out. The pale being looked up from the salamander and saw a small girl, smaller than even his master. She leaned against the tree in a sitting position, barely looking at him from atop her book. Unlike the dark red and vibrant pink of the arguing couple, her hair was a light blue and was cut short. Her uniform appeared similar to his master; small and plain.

"Hurts?" She pointed at his arm, which was still being licked by the large salamander. The Undead looked down at his hand again briefly before shaking his head gently, his right hand petting the salamander slowly. He obviously wasn't used to getting so close to an elemental without it trying to nibble bits of him off.

"...Nice..." He looked down and thought of a more appropriate word, "...Calming..."

"Tabitha." She pointed at herself before pointing at him, "Name?"

"...Familiar..."

The two of them them nodded silently to one another before going back to what they were doing.

The salamander continued to lick his hand and The Undead slowly found something odd: His hand was healing. The reddened skin slowly turned paler the longer he it got licked by the flame Familiar. Soon it had turned back to it's pale white color from before. But it was temporary. He didn't know how, but he could feel it inside somehow. The injuries would return soon enough and he'd find himself weakened again. The salamander had somehow taken the flame from him temporarily.

"Thank you..." He petted the flame Familiar's head gratefully. Great, he appeared to have found a temporary cure. He felt that safety here just like last night when he was talking with Siesta. As long as he didn't find any giant flames, walking corpses, or dragons things would-

...

Was he just imagining things, or did a giant blue dragon just land right in front of him?

While the two of them were having their riveting conversation, the two rivals continued to bicker back and forth. Or rather, Louise tried to bicker back and forth while Kirche simply threw all her attempted insults back at her.

"How many lovers have you taken this past month alone? No wonder you were kicked out of even your brute of a country." Louise sneered.

"Sticks and stones, Valliere." Kirche once again shrugged, "At least I have experience in it, unlike you who's a Zero from magic up to sex appeal."

"What did you say!?" Louise gripped her wand, though she didn't draw it, "I swear by Founder Brimir that you will regret taunting the La Valliere family! You and your wh-"

"Uwaaaaah!"

...What in the void was that?

That voice was unquestioningly male, but the only male around here would be her Familiar. And the thought of her Familiar screaming for anything was already too alien a concept for her.

Louise turned to the source of the voice and found immediately found herself torn between being exasperated, being worried, or laughing till she fell into the floor from the absurdity of what she was seeing.

Her Familiar was there, pinned to the ground by Tabitha's dragon Sylphid. While this might look like an attack or a challenge at first glance, a closer look would indicate the exact opposite. Sylphid was licking him, and quite heavily at that given that his face seemed to already be slobbered by the dragon's saliva. Futilely he tried to push or knock the dragon off with his bare fists; his sword had long been forgotten in his panic.

"...Off..." He grabbed the dragon's snout and pushed forward, only to be met with disappointment as the blue monstrosity refused to budge from it's (or was it her? He knew enough about dragon's and monsters to identify their gender - or lack of such - at a glance), "...Don't...eat..." He struggled out. What was with Dragon's and trying to eat him? Was he giving off something that made dragons think 'Eat me!' was on his agenda?

She couldn't believe this. Her Familiar was _whimpering_ at the dragon? He didn't complain about his burns, he didn't so much as emit a sound when he got skwered by Guiche, and he was **_whimpering _**at Tabitha's harmless Familiar? Sure it was big, but baby wind dragon's were known to be very friendly and rarely attacked even when provoked. It was only when they grew up did they turn hostile and aggressive.

"No eating." Tabitha grabbed the her wooden staff and bonked her Familiar on the snout lightly. Sylphid seemed to frown slightly in response, but stepped back from the struggling Familiar in response. It wasn't her fault that he smelt like (and actually tasted like) smoked meat. How was he doing that anyway? She couldn't see any flames from him.

"Well, it seems your Familiar has a particular weakness to dragons," She commented to Louise, "And I was wondering why Flame seemed so attached to him." She'd seen her own Familiar getting close to him both earlier this morning and when she was arguing with Louise. It intrigued her greatly, but she was merely content to observe for now. He might have pushed her Flame away if she asked him about it.

"Of all the things you could comment on," Louise started evenly, "You comment on that? How about what happened in the duel earlier or the burns on his boy? You comment on dragon slobber instead?"

"Honestly, who cares about any of that stuff? He got stabbed once. I've seen soldier's in Germania brag about getting speared about 3 times and keep going," Kirche ruffled her the pinkette's hair mockingly, "And honestly, does physical appearance really matter? We all grow old and wrinkle as we grow up. Injuries come and go like everything else eventually does. It's a person's passion that matters, and he showed a lot during that fight."

"Right, how could I forget you come from that brute of country? Honestly, I shouldn't be surprised at this point of your lack of tact." Louise deadpanned back.

"And that's why you're still a kid."

Once again the two returned to their back and forth. The Undead didn't bother listening and busied himself with wiping the dragon drool from his face, "...Ugh...disgusting..."If he was purely human he would've felt the urge to puke.

"Sorry." Tabitha mumbled lazily, not bothering to look up from her book. The Undead nodded and didn't let her lack of emotion bother him; he was no better than her in that regard.

Sylphid bowed in apology as well, though she never lost that glint in her eye that made it clear what she planned to do if the two were alone in a room. He turned away from her and-

By the abyss.

How did he not notice it before? Of course he should have noticed it before. She was a dragon, of course she had it. That part of her body that tantalized him and garnered his full attention every time.

How would he describe her? Beautiful? Temptation given raw form? He could already feel himself get excited as different possibilities passed into his mind. That smooth skin, that graceful movement, or how about those tempting contours that promised so much for so little? Oh, what could he do given those qualities? He felt an excitement that he rarely ever felt except those rare times. Some might his call _slight _obsession with it sick, but he'd gotten so much from said obsession that he didn't care!

He needed to do what was necessary. Immediately he gripped his sword with both hands, taking deep excited breaths as he tightened his grip on the shaft. He needed to do this. It'd been too long since he'd done it.

"And another thing-"

"Kyuuuuu!"

Once again both pairs turned and found a quite ridiculous sight. Sylphid was crying out in a panic, shaking her body to and fro like a rabid dog. On her tail was Louise's Familiar, gripping the poor appendage with one hand and holding Guiche's summoned sword in another all while swinging it clumsily against the poor dragon.

"Familiar, what are you DOING!?"

The Undead paused in his attempts to do...whaever it was he was doing to turn to his master "...What...?" Louise seethed at the reply. He actually had the gall to act like he was doing nothing wrong? "Weapon...getting..."

What in the void was he talking about? "Let go of Tabitha's Familiar now!" She waited a couple of seconds but his grip on the appendage refused to waver, despite Sylphid's attempt to pry him off. He didn't, "As your master, I command you to let go of Tabitha's Familiar RIGHT NOW!"

"...Okay..." The disappointment in his voice was quite noticeable given his usual lack of emotion. Reluctantly, he sighed and loosened his grip on the tempting appendage. What did his master have against him and getting new weapons? The sword he had right now was pathetic and he guessed that he would get at least a decent longsword from that blue dragon's tale. Or if he was lucky, he could get a greatsword! He definitely needed it.

"Listen, if you want weapons, then I'll get you one when I get a chance to go into town. So no attacking Familiars, got it!?"

"...Got it..." So the dragon could try to eat him and receive no problems but if he attacks her (without even killing her, midn you) then suddenly it's wrong? Great standards this world had.

"Come on, let's go back to the room. I'm tired of this..."

The Undead followed his master back to the tower, giving one last glance at the Dragon that tried to eat him. Tabitha gave a small wave while Kirche energetically said goodbye to both him and his master, but he ignored them. That tail was baiting him. The way it swished around all whole and undamaged. It wasn't right. A tail wasn't complete till he cut it in half and received a new weapon from it.

He was going to get it, no matter what.

Across Tabitha, Sylphid shivered as the Undead's gaze never left her. Maybe she made a mistake trying to eat him. It wasn't her fault! He just smelled so good!

* * *

**Finally finished this! If I sound irritated, then that's because I made this in the span of two days and I was (and still am as of this writing) horribly sick with a cold. Anyway, please review, comment, and criticize. It makes me feel better and helps me write faster. Oh, and I apologize for any drop in writing quality. A searing headache and droopy eyes make it hard to focus.  
**

**Oh, and before anybody asks: Yes, vampires are canon, though they've only showed up in the Tabitha and Karin side-stories. I didn't make them up or anything.  
**

**Anyway, as I promised, here's Cattleya and Agnes.  
**

**Agnes Chevalier de Milan - Even if I don't pair these two, their interactions are the most natural between them. The Undead treats her similar to a man and always asks about sword techniques or weaponry. Agnes herself has no problem with this and appreciates him treating her no less as a warrior despite her gender or birth. They're probably going to be "Platonic Life Partners" due to this.  
**

**Cattleya Yvette La Baume Le Blanc de La Fontaine (try saying that three times without getting tongue tied) - The Undead immediately thinks of The Fair Lady when he sees her; not helped by the fact that she has two sisters who prefer to explode stuff without question. Also, as many of you have stated, Sergent Mother and Eleanore probably wouldn't approve at all given their strict standards. Given that this CU healed (or at least tried to) the Fair Lady by feeding her that extra 70 Humanity, he might feel the same desire to help her as well given their circumstances. Her kind personality helps greatly in this regard.  
**

**Oh, and more comments for Henrietta and Kirche since these two seem to be the most voted.  
**

**Henrietta de Tristain - A romance at this point would be really bittersweet given her experience with Wales. The CU has a warped view of life and death and he still thinks "Henrietta is Wales lover" despite the latter's death. Though she does end up teaching him about more complex emotions later on and the pain of having to suppress them for others. Let's not get into the political ramifications till later.  
**

******Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst **- She seems to also be getting attention from you guys. I'll say this now: A romance between the two would be awkward in all sorts of ways. Despite her kind personality, Kirche seems to love getting to the point; and the point is something you guys probably know. While Colbert refuses this, he at least knows what she's insinuating. The Chosen Undead is, as of now, physically incapable of the act. No blood flows in his veins, as shown when Guiche managed to attack him both times, meaning no salutes from his soldier no matter how hard Kirche tries. This will change later in the story, but right now he's more dead than alive. Is she that patient?  


**Well, that's all for now. See you next time!  
**


	6. Fairytales

**Important thing: The contents of this chapter were originally going to be different, but people commenting on the CU having no character or character development have pushed this forward. Truth be told I didn't know when I should place this, so I'll show this now and hope it placates some of the complaints that he's completely flat.  
**

**And so I present to you the first flashback chapter!  
**

* * *

"Ugh, I can't believe her!"

The Familiar followed quietly as his master smashed open her door and bounded into the room, making sure to keep a distance from the raging pinkette so as to not incite her wrath. She might send him back to the Kiln if he peeved her too much.

"That-That Germanian reject dares to insult me! Me, the 3rd daughter of the Valliere family!" Well she obviously did, considering the Undead quite easily saw her doing it just a few minutes ago, "She's been doing it before too, but not to this point! She's just-argh!" The Undead almost flinched when she rounded and kicked the wall next to her. Not to any significant degree mind you, given that it showed no cracks or deformity's from her attacks. At least she didn't end up hurting herself again like she did last time; that would've been embarrassing.

Louise huffed once again and threw open her closet, grabbing the closest sleepwear she could find and throwing it towards the bed haphazardly. She certainly didn't care about being seen as graceful or noble by her Familiar at this point. Given how alien and stupid he was acting, he'd probably think being graceful meant she had to do backflips while nibbling on a salamander's severed head.

...

She really needed to get her imagination under control. Next thing she knew she would be imagining her fiancee being some kind of traitorous despot.

"...Master...?" The Familiar glanced at his small master with a minor degree of curiosity and more than a little exhaustion. He was beginning to feel tired already, and yet the reason for it escaped him, "...Dressed...soon?" He angled his head in the direction of the flung sleepwear. No doubt he'd need to help her and then get on with finding something to occupy himself till morning came again.

"Hm? Oh, yes," Louise made her way to the bed and started removing her clothing before pausing, "I'll do it myself, so don't strain yourself!" She pointed at him with her right hand as if to emphasize her point.

She told herself that it was because she was concerned about his health, but that wasn't the only thing on her mind. She didn't want her touching him, not after what she saw him do. After his hands nearly strangled Guiche and choked the life out of him, she shuddered at the thought of being touched by him so closely and unguarded. She wasn't afraid of him - because what kind of noble was scared of their own Familiar - but she needed some time before she could deal with what she'd seen.

He could do nothing but glance around the room listlessly as his master removed her uniform and put on her sleepwear, sans her undergarments for whatever reason, _'What's that?' _He didn't really notice it before, but on one of the sides of the room there was a rather large bookcase containing multitudes of ancient tomes and and scrolls. Idly he found himself walking towards the thing and picking up one of the thinner books.

"...Can't...read..." He let out a disappointed sigh. The book contained even more runes and symbols that made no sense to him. He couldn't even read the title of the book, as pathetic as that sounded. He was pretty sure that he wasn't illiterate given the fact that he had no problems reading the scriptures on the various spell scrolls he found. This place most likely had another language altogether.

He placed the tome back into the shelf and picked up another one; a scroll this time. This was met with no more luck than his previous attempt, though he did find it interesting to note that the spell - and he knew it was a spell given the small illustration at the top - was something he'd never seen before. It looked similar to the soul arrow, only more crystalline and less ethereal.

"Hey, what are you doing?" The Undead quickly folded the scroll and shoved it back into the bookcase, "If you're tying to learn magic then you're out of luck. Only those born with the ability can do it." He heard a sigh from his master, "Still, it should be fine if you want to read. I have a few books there that could help pass the time if you're interested. Brimir knows I don't have time to read them anymore."

Magic? He wondered why they called it that. The one time he called it that Seeker Logan quite literally smacked him with his catalyst and said that only amateurs called it that. Magic implied that it was based on trickery or other forms of illusion. Sorcery, as he and Griggs called it, was power. Power of the soul, power to control life and death, power to take the elements of an individual and use it against others. That was true power.

"Hmm..." He turned back to the book-case and picked up the thinnest book he could find. Immediately he could tell that the parchment on it was older than the rest and that it needed to be handled with care.

The Undead flipped the book open slowly before he felt himself freeze. The book had images on it, fine drawings made from ink and pencil. Nothing that couldn't be seen from any children's fairy tale book. But the images that were drawn here...they weren't suppose to be there.

The first page contained the image of a knight coated in black armor. He stood tall and proud, brandishing a greatsword in his right hand and a sturdy shield in his left. Around his neck and parts of his leg were dark blue and stylish pieces of cloth; short but very practical and graceful in appearance. Under the image were more letters that he didn't understand, but he got the feeling he already knew what they said.

The second page was different. Rather than a human, it held the image of a graceful wolf carrying a sword between its teeth and a stance indicating that it wanted to fight. The same letters decorated the underside of it, and again he guessed he didn't need to read it to understand what it said.

"...Artorias..." The Undead's hands shook as he turned the page. More and more images followed: The Knight from the first page looking more gaunt and weakened, his left arm was broken and the ground was stained in a deep black liquid. The same wolf from before, but this time it was larger and standing on a field of blades facing a shadowed foe.

"Can't be..." More images. One of a giant wielding a greatbow, another of a woman brandishing two blades and standing in front of a grave like a protector. Each page contained an image, and each image was too familiar to be a coincidence, "...How..."

He flipped to the last page and instantly grimaced. The two pages were connected by one drawing, the image it contained needing both pages to convey the subject within. Unlike the last few pages, the image was neither animal or human. It was a monster, standing on two hind legs in a background that was even darker than its leathery skin. Its left hand was large and deformed, curled into a fist as if ready to smite something into paste. Its right hand was smaller and more human in appearance, though it held a gnarled black staff that it brandished like a weapon. The legs it stood on were stumpy and would have been comical if not for the rest of its body.

Mostly what garnered it's attention was its middle body. Rather than flesh, the ribs of the torso were exposed and wrapped around him like armor. On its back were numerous blank spikes dotted with reddish-orange dots that resembled eyes. Speaking of eyes, the part of the body that was supposed to have it - the face - was completely lacking; instead it sported the same bone like protrusions it had on its back. Overall it was a pretty nightmarish and intimidating figure.

"...Manus..." His grip on the book tightened. Memories flooded in again: Falling into the abyss, the spells of Manus lapping at his skin when he fought against the monster, seeing princess Dusk and feeling rage overtake him at the sound of her cries. Manus grabbed him again and again, growling in his face and smacking him around the walls like a broken toy. It was only Artorias armor that continued to protect him from dying.

"Oh, you're interested in that book?" Louise glanced at the book he held in his hands, though still keeping her distance from him, "It's a pretty popular story for both children and adults. It tells the story of a knight called Artorias and his battles to save a foreign land from a monster that spreads darkness and corruption. There are actually two versions of the story, but which one is better is frequently up for debate."

The Undead didn't respond, only continuing to flick the pages back and forth over and over again. _'Artorias, Sif, Gough, Ciaran, Elizabeth, Dusk...Manus,' _Each name popped into his head every time he saw an image. These were undoubtedly images of both friends and enemies. The details were far too similar for it to be mere coincidence.

"...Master," He closed the book quickly and thrust it somewhat forcefully against the girl, much to her surprise,"Read...please..." He was curious. He felt the need to understand and see what was going on, but he couldn't read their language. He needed to know if this was simple coincidence or fate once again mocking him. He'd had enough of the latter.

"Read?" She looked down at the book before realizing what he meant, "Wait, you want me to read this for you?"

The Familiar nodded, once again thrusting the book upon her. Louise was tempted to bark a refusal at him. She was a noble, why should she spend her time reading to her Familiar? "...Fine," Instead, she grabbed the book and plopped down on the bed, "But I'm only going to read it once. After that I'm not going to do so or answer any questions, got it?" He nodded greatly and sat against the side wall, leaning back onto it.

Her mother's words rang at her again, 'Nobility must lead by example. How do you expect to earn the respect of those who serve you when you do not prove yourself their better?'. If she wanted her Familiar to follow her, the least she could do was grant him some minor requests now and again. Besides, it wasn't as if it was uncommon for this to happen. Cattleya frequently read to various children on the rare times she went out and even Eleanor had a soft spot for new apprentices and helped them sharpen their reading and writing skills. Many commoner's were illiterate due to lack of education and so had to rely on either nobles and superiors to help them with matters of the document.

And so she started to read.

"Long ago, there was a land in the far east, before even the elves came. The people there practiced a magic of a different sort; they focused on light and healing rather than destruction and war. They were an enlightened bunch. They felt no need for war and power, feeling that the path best taken in life was peace and prosperity with others. Their land was called-"

"Oolacile..." He blurted out without thinking. Louise looked slightly annoyed at the interruption but brushed it off as excitement.

"Yes, the land of Oolacile. They lived in peace due to their beliefs and no other lands dared to bother them. Their young ruler, Princess Dusk, was considered a true beauty both inside and out. Her physically beauty was surpassed only by her kindness and her fire to defend her kingdom. Under her, the land of Oolacile prospered and all was well."

"...Not forever..."

"That's right," Louise nodded, turning another page of the book, "Soon, the land of Oolacile was swallowed by a great darkness. A 'toothy' serpent tempted the people of Oolacile with power beyond their wildest dreams if they simply dug up and searched the ruins under their great city. Princess Dusk objected, but many of her people did so in secret, believing that the power would help advance their people."

"..." This time he didn't interrupt her.

"The 'toothy serpent' had evidently lied. There was a great power there, but it was not for them. What they found instead was darkness and corruption. What they dug up was not an ancient ruin, but a grave. A grave that belonged to Manus, the Primeval man and progenitor of all mankind."

His fist unconsciously tightened at the sound of the name. Manus, Father of the Abyss. A monster beyond compare that spread corruption with his every step and did nothing but make others suffer. All for his futile search of his pendant, half of which the Undead had found and what had forced him into that entire debacle.

"Immediately, destruction was wrought. Manus spread his darkness, corrupting the entire land for an unknown reason. Many said he was simply malevolent and wanted to see others suffer, but others said it was an unintended consequence and all he was doing was looking for something precious."

Right, Manus was looking for his pendant. One half held by him, the other by 'Marvelous' Chester. He went insane looking for it and he went through both time and space to find it. He himself was grabbed from his adventures simply because he had found one half of it during his exploration on Seath's archives. He had found himself involved through a complete accident.

"Chaos spread throughout the land. Princess Dusk tried her best to maintain order, but it wasn't enough. Her people turned against one another. They were corrupted by Manus' darkness and turned into monsters; demons from the abyss who stole the Humanity of those who held them, turning them into monsters like him. Soon the entire kingdom of Oolacile fell, with only remnants remaining."

Louise paused and waited for the expected interruption. The Familiar continued to look down on his knees and stayed quiet.

"But then a hero came. Knight Artorias with three of his trusted allies; Hawkeye Gough, unmatched with the greatbow. Ciaran the Assassin, who laid waste to her foes with both grace and elegance. And the Great gray wolf Sif, Artorias' loyal friend and most stalwart ally. Together these four met the abyss building in Oolacile and did their very best to halt its advance."

_'But they failed,'_ He didn't need to say it aloud. Any child who was used to tragic stories would've seen it coming.

**"Knight Artorias came to stop this, but such a hero has nary a murmur of dark. Without doubt he will be swallowed by Abyss, overcome by its utter blackness. Indeed, the abyss may be unstoppable." **These were Elizabeth's words when she told him about what had happened to the honorable knight. She was right.

"Hawkeye Gough was the first to fall. The creatures of the abyss were too much for even him and he was blinded shortly before being killed. His hreatbow as lost alongside his body and consumed by the abyss. Artorias regretted that he couldn't give his friend a proper burial." Louise continued the story.

Lies, all of it. Gough was alive until after Artorias' fall. The people of Oolacile called him a brute and locked him in the tower, unbeknownst to both his allies. His helmet was stuck with tree resin and he thought himself both blind and worthless, when the truth was that he was neither. Gough was the reason The Undead was able to destroy Kalameet and prevent any of his further destruction.

"With heavy hearts, Artorias and Ciaren continued forward to the abyss. Deep inside the lair they fought against both the creatures of the Abyss and the corrupted people of Oolacile. After many battles, Ciaran got injured deeply and was forced by Artorias to retreat. The brave knight had already lost one friend and he wasn't about to lose another."

And Ciaran loved him for it. She tended to his grave like a lover would and begged him for the Soul of Artorias when she met him again, even if she knew that it wasn't truly his soul. Souls were energy and, though many would've liked to believe otherwise, they were not sentient. Many of the more powerful beings had unique souls, but it contained nothing of their identity nor their minds. It was a vain hope, but hope nonetheless.

"With only Sif and Artorias left, the two companions made their way to the center of the Abyss until they were finally overwhelmed. Artorias, in a last act of sacrifice, left his shield to his companion Sif, for his arm was broken and he could no longer bear the burden. Alone, injured, and most likely dying, the heroic knight braved the abyss alone and faced Manus himself. With only only his fond memories to guide him, he faced Manus and absolute death with nary any hesitation and succeeded against his foe despite his numerous injuries."

Yes, that was how it 'officially' went down. Artorias ventured into the abyss, he fought Manus alone, and he triumphed despite the odds. The legend states that the land of Oolacile was freed from Manus' grip, but the brave knight Artorias was never seen again after his defeat of him. There were many guesses to what happened to him; it was either he died fighting Manus after he saved everyone, or he ventured even further into the abyss to continue to fight till his end of days.

Neither of these were true.

"Well, there you have it," Louise sighed in relief and closed the book, "This is the first version of the story that most parents tell their children. A tale of heroics, honor, and sacrifice. There's another version here, but it's not as well known to kids due to its rather bleak nature."

"Another version?" Did his voice just avoid pausing right there? His master seemed to notice it too since she paused and stared at him before nodding again.

"Yes, another version," She stood up and quickly made her way to the bookcase. She searched through it for a few seconds before pulling out another book, "This one is more recent and came from some sort of traveler from the far east. No one knows his name and he reportedly said he made it because 'It would be treacherous' if he didn't."

"That sounds...familiar," Ah, here was the pausing again. Oh well, at least it wasn't as bad as before, "Can't be...the same person," The only person who talked like that would be- No, the idea of it was too much and too ridiculous. The Carim aristocrat was a selfish bastard who only cared for himself. Why would he journey to some far off land just to tell a different version of an age old legend? It made no sense.

"He refused to divulge his name, though," Louise picked up the book and plopped back down onto the bed, "He just said 'I want the truth to be known' and wrote down everything he said. People apparently looked at him like a madman but they printed it anyway, mostly because the tale was so popular," She opened the first page and smiled slightly, "It is pretty popular with an older audience and many commoners since they find the heroic knight tale too cliche for their tastes."

"What happened?" Okay, so he could speak two to three words without pausing now. That was an improvement, at least.

"This version of the story is even more tragic than the last," Louise pointed at the first picture shown; Artorias, with his left arm broken and hunched over like he was about to die. The same image from before, "It says here instead that Artorias didn't even make it to Manus and that he was beaten even beforehand and was forced to flee from him."

Louise turned to the next page, "Battered and beaten, with the corruption slowly overtaking him, Artorias gave his shield to Sif and was forced to flee from the abyss and its monstrosities. Here he could do nothing but escape and find solace in his memories, till the corruption overtook him completely and he was reduced to no more than a monster like Manus. A creature that spread only darkness and decay."

"Keep going," Another headache and a flood of memories barraged his head.

"Soon after, the spread of the Abyss was halted and the deeds of another human were accredited to Artorias, the hero who gave his life to repel the abyss," Louise flipped the book and showed another image: A knight who looked almost the opposite of Artorias. His armor was plain in comparison to the dark knight's, though it had a certain aura of nobility around it based on the mantle around his shoulders and chest. In his hands he held a plain longsword and a decorative shield with some unknown symbol.

It was his armor. The Knight armor that he wore when he was dragged back into the past and forced to go through his journey. The shield and sword both held the mark of Astora and so did parts of the mantle that dotted his armor.

"Within this glimpse of the Abyss lies a tormented soul. A savior turned demon, hidden from the eyes of his lord and comrades. As if only for his soul to find peace at long last, a warrior came; a hero from a time long distant yet near. The warrior fought against Artorias, severing his bond with the Darkness so that his honor may remain intact."

"Mankind is...more than dark," The Undead whispered it to himself so Louise couldn't hear it. Artorias whispered these words to him as well during their fight against one another.

"Living with the knowledge that his master protected him with his last, uncorrupted breath. Watching him become a husk, only capable of tormented screams. Sif keeps the last relic of his master and friend and defends his master's grave, knowing many would use it to traverse the abyss again. For it was only through his corruption that he was able to traverse the abyss, a skill many an individual coveted."

Sif, the reluctant warrior.

"The hero saved Sif on his way to fight Manus and the two had worked together in order to beat the Father of the Abyss. And yet, years later, the hero comes for the ring that debilitated his friend. Imagine what he was feeling when the hero came for the ring that debilitated his friend," The question was a rhetorical one and not meant to be answered, "He was trying to protect him. One of them had to die because Sif would not give up his master's memento willingly. Maybe in death, he could see Artorias again."

**"Ah, Sif, there you are! I was worried about you! Could you tell the others that I'm sorry, that I failed them?"** In his death, Artorias believed that Sif was at his side. The Undead remained quiet out of respect for the great warrior and let him die in peace.

"Thank you," His hands shook as the memories began to fade. The headache and dizziness had stopped, and yet his eyelids felt heavier than ever. It was odd. He'd never felt like this before. Perhaps he should close his eyes and rest for a moment.

"What for?" Louise huffed and placed the book back into the shelf, "Reading something isn't a complicated action and it should be obvious that-"

Louise stopped. Her Familiar was asleep, his head on his knees as he sat up and his arms wrapped around his legs so they wouldn't spill out. Louise let a tired smile filter into her lips before making her way to her own bed. Though she felt a slight fear whenever she looked at him, she couldn't deny that he wasn't as monstrous as his peers no doubt thought of him.

And for the first time in his life, the Undead dreamed.

* * *

"Whoa, look at that view!"

Gough let out a hearty chuckle as The Undead pointed at the large trees dotting Oolacile. The setting sun was going down over the horizon and it gave the entire area a sort of painting like feel to it. The last time the Undead saw something like this was when he was forcefully dragged to Anor Londo by those demons. The beauty of the image was still fresh in his mind.

Gough would have enjoyed it too, if not for his lack of sight.

"I thought the land was completely corrupted by Manus?" The Undead turned towards the hulking giant, "Why hasn't the surrounding area turned into something like the abyss?"

"Like how, my friend?" Gough asked, not looking up from his wood carvings. He found talking with the pygmy like human to be extremely entertaining given his long solitude and blindness. It was always interesting to hear another person's voice, especially when it wasn't simply grim solemnity.

"You know, full of horrible monsters that want to bite my face off and then chew on my severed arm for good measure," He gave a wry smile and an ironic laugh when Gough paused from his carving, "Well, it's not like this place is any different!" He shook his head with a laugh, "At least the views look pretty, even if the monsters felt like they needed to compensate by being twice as ugly as before."

"I would not know. Blindness does have its advantages I suppose," Gough laughed when he felt leg get lightly smacked by the smaller man's fist, "But did thou truly come from a land as destroyed as thou claims? I shudder to think of seeing it again, if my eyesight were to return."

"Yeah? Well it might be closer than you think," The Undead grabbed the battered knight gauntlet in his hand and pried it loose. Immediately he could feel the crisp Oolacile air hit against his skin and he gave a sigh of relief, "God's, it's been too long since I've been somewhere that isn't too hot, too cold, or too toxic to go without armor. Dark corruption or not, this place is one of the nicest I've been to in a while!"

"What does't thou mean?" The Undead found Gough's way of speaking to be quite amusing, especially given how used he'd gotten to Solaire and Siegmeyer's way of speaking, "Are thou saying that thou comes from a land not too distant from here?"

"Yeah, but telling you more might not be a good idea," The Undead smirked under his knight helm, "Solaire told me that knowledge of the future making its way to the past always leads to disaster. Then again, this is the same guy who says he loves the sun like it's his father or something. So maybe he's not the best guy to talk to when it comes to stuff like this."

"I see," Gough had no idea what in the abyss he was talking about.

"Or maybe he is. I mean, whatever I can say about the guy, he's definitely a better fighter than I could ever be. You should see him, Gough, the man wields lighting like it's his own personal weapon and I've seen him take on giant's with barely a flinch. I wish I could so something like that!" He paused again, "Or Black Iron Tarkus. Man takes a 15 foot sword doesn't even flinch!"

"Indeed,"

The Undead sighed at the taciturn response, "You know, it's really hard to talk to you when all you reply with is one word sentences," He started unclasping his helmet since the heat was begging to bear down on him, "When you're talking with someone, isn't it better if you talk as much as you can? I can't imagine myself talking like you do. I think I'd force myself to talk even if my throat tried to give out on me."

He never really talked much, truth be told. Lordran, and Oolacile by extension, was a desolate place filled with barely any people. So the rare times he did talk to someone, he talked with much gusto, trying to find any topic to discuss before he went on his weeks long solitary journeys again. It was always interesting to talk about the different lands the various people he met came from. Solaire and Siegmeyer in particular.

"Forgive my, my friend, I am simply unused to talking with someone so foreign." Gough apologized.

The Undead nodded briefly before throwing off the battered helm from his head. What came from under the helm was the face of a man barely out of his twenties. Chocolate brown hair framed his face, ending in various spiky intervals around his eyes and cheeks. On his back his hair was cut short, except for a singular ponytail that extended from the top of his neck and extending to the base of his spine wrapped with a thin cloth. Very far from Artorias' supposed killer.

"So Gough, what are you doing up here anyway?" The Undead relaxed when the sound of his voice echoing around the helmet didn't happen again, "I mean, far be it for me to question one of the great knight's of Gwyn, but what's a giant with a really big greatbow doing up in a lone tower carving wood? I thought you'd be hunting dragons or leading the charge into the abyss." He fixed a curious stare at the giant, brown eyes glistening with curiosity..

"I could ask thee the same question," The Undead rolled his eyes at the blatant side-step and picked up one of the carved woods, playing with it in his hands, "I thought thine purpose here was to destroy Manus and halt the advance of the-"

"I'm sorry!" Gough paused. That was his own voice that undoubtedly interrupted him. The Undead gave a small smirk as the voice echoed from the destroyed carving. Many books in the Oolacile township mentioned that the wood could be used to record your own voice into it. Gough had evidently been experimenting on his carvings.

"Whoa, I didn't think it would actually do that!" The Undead picked up another carving and smashed it against the wall. A chorus of 'Thank you's' immediately resounded again, "Hey, you've really got to teach me how to do that. I want to show it to Siegmeyer the next time I see him. It would make a great present for his daughter too."

Gough grunted under his helmet at the crazy Undead, "What, don't tell me you're upset now." Gough once again continued to carve and ignore him, "Alright, say what you gotta say! I'm listening!" He dropped all the carvings he held in his hands and turned back to his place on the tower, sitting down with a 'hmph', "I just wanted to take a break from being sent on a bunch of impossible quests all the time. But I guess it's unavoidable."

"I suspect thou hast taken a gander at it," He gestured to the city of Oolacile, "The dark of the Abyss, which swallowed Poor Artorias, threatens to devour our entire land of Oolacile."

"Which sounds really bad, I know." The Undead replied cheekily.

"It seems this dire fate is unavoidable," Gough continued, ignoring the interruption, "But, seduced by a dark serpent or no, they awoke that thing themselves, and drove it mad. One's demise is always one's own making."

"Not always. I mean, what if someone was just taking a nap and someone decided to cut his head off? Is that from his own making too?" He could practically feel Gough glaring at him from under his helmet, "What? It was a simple comment."

He disagreed with Gough and Chester on this. The actions of a few renegades should not have doomed an entire kingdom to ruin. He'd seen some of the monsters there, and he still shuddered to think that these were once people.

"If thine wish is to succeed poor Artorias, and challenge the spread of the dark, then thou must face Manus, Father of the Abyss. The dark emanates from Manus himself. Even if this land shall expire, thou may be able to prevent further corrosion. But even so, one day the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain. And even a legend such as thineself can do nothing to stop that."

"So it's all up to me again? Figures," He gave a weary sigh, "I never got why I have to be the one to do all these things. Why not Solaire or Siegmeyer? Those two would jump at the chance to fight the embodiment of darkness and corruption. I just want to get out of here and avoid going Hollow."

"Fate chooses us, it seems," Gough smiled and picked up another chunk of wood, "We make out own path in life, Raziel. It is your choice on whether your path shall take you to Manus, or away from him."

"I guess so. Well, I don't really believe in fate. I make my own- Hey, what did you just call me?"

"Raziel. It is a word in my tongue that I believe is appropriate for thou," Another bonk to the leg met the comment, "Oh, I meant no offense for it. The name comes from a combination of two different words. 'Ra' is short for 'Risen' and 'ziel' is our way of saying 'Soul'. Together the two words mean 'Risen Soul', an appropriate namesake is it not?"

"Well it's better than being called 'The Chosen Undead'," He put his hands up in air-quotes, not that Gough could see the gesture, "I suppose I wouldn't mind being called that for now. It's certainly more convenient than anything else I've been called so far." He shrugged. It was nice to be called something that didn't have the word "Undead" in it. He was just glad Gough didn't hate him for being Undead.

"It also has another meaning in thine tongue: Secret Keeper, or 'God is my Secret'," Raziel cocked an eyebrow at the term, "Thou seems to hold many secrets with thee, some deeper than any possible. Thou jovial act is merely a front for these secrets, is it not? Even someone as blind as me can see that."

"Maybe you're right," Another smile found its way to Raziel's face, though it lacked the cheerfulness and warmth from before. It was the first time he'd shown an expression like that in his entire time in Oolacile, "Tell me: What does the spread of the Abyss mean for the world? Wouldn't it be a good thing for humans?"

"That is the same thing the toothy serpent promised the people of Oolacile," Gough sighed, "They were promised that the Abyss would save them and that the power of it would lead to salvation. But does thou see salvation here? Artorias and Ciaran saw only monsters, and I fought only corruption when I still had my sight. The abyss is corruption given form. The serpent's words were honeyed, but false. There is nothing but corruption that awaits thee."

"So Kaathe lied. It shouldn't surprise me, I guess." Raziel closed his eyes and leaned back into the wall. He should've figured that Kaathe was lying. Both serpents accused one another of deception, when the truth of it was that they were both guilty of lying. Frampt wanted power for himself and used Gwyndolin as a puppet. Kaathe wanted power for himself and wanted to use him as a tool for his own ends. In either case he was meant to be a sacrifice, "I guess it says a lot about human nature doesn't it? Our soul is so black we corrode whatever we touch."

"Many believe that," Gough agreed neutrally, "Ciaran herself believes that humans are as you said, but Artorias always believed in humanity. The reason he accepted this task was because he believed in Humanity and hoped to give them a second chance."

"And what do you think about Humanity?" Raziel asked glumly.

"I believe it our own choice what defines our nature. We can say that humanity is evil and that the God's are good, but such a broad saying cannot truly apply to every individual. I will be the first to admit that many in my kind are the savage brutes they claim us as, and I hope that I am not the same."

The Undead nodded numbly before another question popped into his mind, "Hey, you never answered why you were up here. Is it because you're blind?"

"Me? There is very little to be said. What good is a dog, with no hares to hunt? I am lucky to be alive, I suppose," Gough picked up his greatbow and gestured to the distance, "My sight was the only thing that was valuable about me to the Knight's. Without it I am not important to anyone."

"Hey, that's not true!" Raziel grabbed another carving, "See these things? Wait, what am I saying, of course you don't. Anyway, I've never seen anything like them and you were the one who made them. You shot down Kalameet even when you were blind, so don't say you're worthless. And you were the guy that gave me a name, don't forget. When people ask me where my name came from, you'll know who I'm going to tell them about."

"Hahahaha, it appears so," He put down the bow and picked up another slab of wood, "Now, do not mistake my words. I cherish my work. Wood carving is a nuanced art. I would have much to talk about with that blacksmith. In truth, how is the old chap, I wonder? Still hammering away, I should hope."

"If you're talking about who I think you're talking about, then he's fine," Raziel answered with a smile, "Sure he's surrounded by demon's and silver knight's, but they don't seem to bother him or anything. The big guy's pretty well-off I should say."

"Hmm, that is good then," Gough nodded, "I had worried myself because I could not say goodbye before we left."

"How did you lose your eyesight? Was it from battle?" Raziel's curiosity once again gnawed at him.

"The cause is unknown to me," Gough answered, "One day I simply awoke with nothing but absolute darkness to meet me. I could not fight as effectively as before, and so I now reside in this tower."

"That can't be right," Raziel thought aloud, "You don't simply go blind, at least not without reason. Are you sure that- Hold on."

Raziel looked up and focused on Gough's helmet; specifically, on the eyeslit. He hadn't seen it before, but it was absolutely covered in a deep brown substance and it blocked every possible space the hole occupied. At first glance it seemed to be mud or the giant's own fluids, but a closer look revealed otherwise.

"Hey Gough, can you bend your head for a bit?" The giant paused from his carving and stared at the human, Just lean your head down, alright? I'm not going to kill you while you're not looking."

Gough hesitated for a moment before complying with the request. Raziel stepped closer and touched the helmet with a gloved hand, "Tree resin?" He winced at the sticky substance. Someone had placed tree resin on the helmet, "Gough, have you ever removed your helmet before or after you got blinded?"

"Only once, when Lord Gwyn demanded to see my face. Other than that I have been honor-bound to never remove the helmet."

"Thought so," Raziel sighed and picked up his sword, "Well, I have some good news for you, my large friend!" He announced cheerfully.

"Oh? And what may that be?"

Raziel didn't answer. Instead he gripped the sword with both hands and did a horizontal quick horizontal slice, surprising the giant, "The good news, my friend, is that you are no longer blind!" He announced with a great smile, throwing the sword back onto where he took it, "I do believe I have performed a miracle right here."

Gough blinked in surprise before realizing his friend was right. No longer did eternal darkness meet him, but the sun of Oolacile's setting sun. He could see the view that Raziel admired just a few minutes ago, the bountiful forests that he had glimpsed earlier during his adventures, and even some of the carving he had set aside. He had missed how everything looked like.

But he could also see the corruption. Dark patches of earth were visible even here and the numerous dead were scattered across the land, his keen eyesight allowing him to see them. It was a true mix of both beauty and sadness.

"My friend, how did thou-"

"Somebody covered your helm with tree resin," He gave a cheerful laugh and sat back down, "You know, I thought you were eloquent and smart. Guess I was wrong about that." He teased.

"Haha, yes, it appears so. Friend, I cannot thank you enough for helping me."

"Then don't," Raziel shrugged nonchalantly, "Once you see some of the ugly things Manus has done to Oolacile, you'll be wishing that you were blind. I know I did when I saw a close up of that sorcerer's head."

The two of them maintained a comfortable silence after that. The sounds of carving wood was the only thing that broke the calming silence, something Raziel found extremely relaxing given his current predicament. He'd gone too long without rest, and he didn't mean recuperating at a bonfire. Being up here was extremely calming and he found talking with someone as traveled as Gough to be a very enjoyable experience-

What was that?

"Someone's coming," Gough paused from his carving at Raziel's warning. The swordsman stood up warily and grabbed his sword and shield, "I can hear only one pair of footsteps, so just let me handle it. A big guy like you fighting in a small space like this just asking for trouble."

Raziel made his way to the adjacent side of the ladder and waited, sword drawn and combat-ready. There was only one way to get to the top of the tower and it was through that extremely narrow ladder. If anybody hostile tried to get to the top then it wouldn't take much for him to decapitate the thing where it stood. That is if it even had a head in the first place.

"Gough, are you there?" That didn't sound like the voice of a mindless monster, "It is I, Ciaran. I need to speak with thee."

Raziel visibly relaxed at the voice. While he could not claim to call Ciaran a friend, she was far from being his enemy. Giving her the 'Soul' of Artorias should've also stopped any hostility's she might have had against him, if only a little.

Or it might have made her even more hostile. Really, he didn't care as long as she didn't attack him. He already had to kill two knights of Gwyn, he didn't want to take on another two. Especially with such an affable man as Gough.

"I am here," Gough called out, "What is the problem, Ciaran?"

"The abyss spreads more than ever before," Ciaran sighed in relief as she managed to make her way to the top, "I fear that it may be too late to do anything now. Manus grows too strong and, as much as I hate to admit it, we may have to leave now without fulfilling our mission-"

The assassin stopped when she saw Raziel, "Oh, it appears you have company," Well, that sounded noticeably more hostile than he expected. Ciaran glared (though Raziel didn't know that) from underneath her mask, "What is the human doing here? I was under the assumption that you were alone." The way she emphasized alone made him wonder if she didn't like him being here.

"Why? Is it because the door was locked behind him and he couldn't get out?" If she was going to be nasty, then so was he, "The way you treat your friends like prisoners makes me glad that we're not particularly close." He followed the statement by making a mock bow. Something he'd learned from Oswald, "And I have a name, you know. It's Raziel."

"He was not placed here as prisoner, but for his own protection. Gough himself admitted that he wanted to find solace and a place where he could focus on his craft." Ciaran glared harder when Raziel rolled his eyes at her explanation, "And what is your explanation for being here? Was killing poor Artorias not enough for you? Do you feel the need to sate your thirst for souls with Gough as well?"

"Well now, that's a surprise. I didn't see you complaining when you asked for Artorias soul," He saw her hands make way to her hips, grabbing at her silver and golden daggers. He grasped at his sword hilt in response, "Artorias turned into a monster. Leaving him to run amok was even more of a suffering than simply killing him. Oh, Gough's not blind," He pointed to the giant's helm, "Somebody covered it with tree resin, though I thought someone as observant as you would know that already."

She didn't even deign to acknowledge his second complaint, "Do not talk about Artorias that way," Though her voice was deathly calm, the killing intent that exuded from her body was almost visible for him. Well, if she wanted a fight, then he was going to-

"Enough!" Both human and demigod nearly fell over at the sound of the loud voice, "Ciaran, the human did Artorias a great service by releasing him from his punishment," Gough practically boomed at the woman before turning to the Undead, "Raziel, I thank thee for thy concern, but Ciaran is right. I had asked to be placed here for my own safety for I did not know the truth of my blindness. Do not fight, we are not each others enemy."

Both warrior and assassin looked up at Gough before turning to glare at one another again. When Gough gave another annoyed grunt, both fighters reluctantly sheathed their weapons before making their way to opposite ends of the tower. They didn't want to be any closer than needed, especially now that they both had weapons in their hands.

"Ciaran, what was it thou tried to say earlier?" Gough managed to voice out.

"Yes, as I was saying," She coughed politely, "The Abyss has begun to spread once again. Despite our best efforts, it is impossible to contain. We must leave now and fortify Anor Londo's defenses to combat its eventual spread."

"Hmm, is there truly no other option?" Gough replied.

"No, not unless we manage to stop Manus himself."

"Then that shouldn't be too much of a problem, right?" Raziel interrupted, much to Ciaran's annoyance, "Gough's the best man to ever wield a bow and you're the great assassin of Gwyn," He didn't voice out how ironic a so called benevolent dictator was for having an assassin, "With the two of you it should be quite easy to defeat Manus."

"Artorias could not do it, we have no chance," She admitted bitterly, "The Abyss would corrupt us before we manage to reach Manus. We cannot do anything."

Raziel sighed. As much as he wanted to disagree with her, she had a point there, "Then I'll do it," Ciaran gave him a look of suspicion at the blunt suggestion, "Neither of you can do it, right? Much as you might not like to admit, being human does have its advantages," He stood up and grabbed for his helm and discarded gauntlet, "If I can stop Manus, that will stop the spread of the Abyss, right?"

"Ye-"

"Yes, but it is impossible for thee," Ciaran interjected nastily, cutting Gough off, "If Artorias could not do it, what makes thy think thou art any more capable? Does thou claim to have more power than even those blessed by the God's themselves?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying," He packed a few of the carvings into his bottomless pack. It didn't hurt to get a souvenir, "But I have something no one else has: I never give up. Even death cannot hold me for long, as the many I have triumphed against can attest. Can you claim the same?"

Raziel smiled underneath his helmet at her silence. Being Undead was considered a curse, but even it had its advantages. So long as he didn't lose all hope and Hollow, he was essentially an unstoppable foe.

"Are thou not afraid?"

"Of course I am," He made one last check for all his equipment before nodding to himself, "I'm scared of what Manus is capable of, I'm scared that I won't be good enough to stop him and the abyss will spread," A wry smile made its way to his face, "But if I don't do it, then who else will? I don't want to do this, but I'm not going let Manus run amok simply because I was too afraid to at least try and stop him. If I die doing so, then at least it'll be for something worthwhile."

He'd been afraid all this time. He was afraid when he faced the Asylum demon, he was afraid when he saw Nito for the first time, he was afraid when he figured out the truth about linking the fires, and he was afraid even now when he had nothing left to lose. That fear never left him.

But what was the other option? Laying down to die? Waiting for others to solve his problems for him? No, neither of these were an option for him. He would not Hollow, not when he still had something to fight for. If he had to suffer for it then let him suffer.

"Wait," Ciaran grabbed his shoulder, "Thou shalt need this."

Raziel glanced down at her hand and nearly backpedaled in shock. Artorias soul, the very energy he gave to her, was being offered to him, "I thought you wanted to pay respect to him?" He asked cautiously.

"I do. But...Artorias would want Manus to be destroyed more than anything so the people of Oolacile can be saved. I entrust his soul to thee, so that you may use its power to cast Manus back into the abyss."

Raziel looked up at Gough and the giant gave him an encouraging nod. Hesitantly, he reached out and took the warm soul into his own hand. He didn't know what he could do with this, but he had a feeling it was going to save him when the time came.

With one last look at Oolacile's setting sun, he nodded to the two and made his way out of the tower.

* * *

Raziel awoke with nary a sound. Slowly he blinked his tired eyes and looked around him. He was in a tower, but not the same one as from his dream. He was in his master's bedroom. The only source of light that could be seen were the glow from the twin moons, making it hard for him to see beyond a few feet in front of him.

"Right, I'm with...master," He suddenly found the word distasteful in mouth, "Raziel," He repeated the name in his mouth. Was that his real name? He couldn't remember too much, even now.

The person he'd seen in that dream was alien to him. He was confident, cheerful, and willing all too willing to keep fighting despite the odds shifted against him. He wasn't any of that, he was simply a corpse waiting to die. Blankly he stared down at his left hand. The burns from before had appeared again, the familiar redness causing a stir of uncomfortableness to spread through him.

He didn't remember any of that. Sure he could recall how people Siegmeyer and Logan acted, but he could not remember his interactions with them or what eventually happened to them. It was as if he read a book and stopped midway; he was disconnected and had no idea how it ended.

Raziel sighed. He needed to go for a walk and clear his head. As quietly as he could, he opened the door and made his way out of his master's room.

* * *

"Headmaster Osmond, I have it."

"Oh, what do you have, Professor Colbert?"

"Yes, I examined the marking from Ms. Valliere's Familiar and found only one match."

"Oh, how interesting! What did you find about them?"

"Gandalfr."

* * *

******First********flashback chapter done.** **Nothing much to say really, just read, comment, criticize, and review. And hopefully it's better than before. Oh, and lets stop discussing romance for now, since I'm far more interested in world building and merging. If anybody can enlighten me on the politics of Halgakenia, then please leave a review********. I'm always interested.  
**


	7. World of Wonders

**Hey guys! Well, like Random Reader said, I'm going to make my AN's AFTER the chapter, not before. I'll also shorten it to people either with criticism or questions that aren't too spoilerific. If your question doesn't get answered then it means the answer will be shown in the story either now or soon, so don't worry. I check the reviews for criticism and questions before I make the final post.**

**But I have to say: I've read the latest translated novels, and it is VERY GOOD. The politics are there, Pope Vittorio's character along with Julio's finally make me understand why people hate them, and I can't believe that the novel actually pulled off making me feel bad for Joseph even a tiny smidgen considering everything he'd done in his last appearance. I have some complaints here and there, but I have to say that the anime destroyed what could have been an epicstory with harem antics taking precedence over plot. Damn shame...**

**And before anyone asks again : YES, HE WILL GET STRONGER AS THE STORY GOES. For all the complaints about how weak he is, please remember that he's still just recently gotten out and very unhealthy. He'll improve as time goes on.**

* * *

Anastacia of Astora had a great destiny, or so many people said. She was one of the few firekeepers in the world; women 'blessed' with 'sacred task' of guarding the blessed bonfires. Supposedly it was some great event given only to a chosen few and it allowed those of the most devout faith to serve their Lord Gwyn to the best of their abilities. No one complained because the task was so humbling and honorable.

Of course, Raziel thought the reason no one complained was because they had their tongue's cut out when they tried to. And maybe the mass beatings had something to do with that too. Oh and the whole "We're cutting off your feet just in case you get any idea of actually going more than a few steps ever crosses your mind. Which it won't, right?"

Really, it didn't sound so great to him.

"You think your fate is to stay here forever?" Raziel leaned back against the cold stone, sitting close to the bars containing the prisoner within, "Do you really believe you were born to take this 'divine task' and that you should take this all without so much as a complaint? It's not right..."

Anastacia didn't reply to his question verbally, though she nodded at him all the same. Even though the reactions seemed cold and detached, Raziel had long ago figured out that the fact that she was replying at all meant she valued his company enough that she didn't just ignore him like she did every other Undead that tried to pester her for information.

"I don't think this is the right place for anyone. Watching people die and be reborn, again and again with no change? This is a nightmare..." Raziel gave the young girl a look of pity, thankfully hidden from underneath his helm. She looked sad; her clothes were dirty and loose, her hair was a tangled mess, and there was something in her eyes that he saw when she looked at her. Sadness, but more than that: Resignation. She stopped caring about everything, even her own life. She was raised from birth to accept what was happening to her and nothing could change that now.

"But why you alone?" He continued, "There's no one here! You can escape, you can leave this place! You have your two feet, get up and walk on them. Don't waste this chance."

Anastacia didn't reply again, looking away from him. Raziel felt frustration bubble in him again before her soft voice rang out, "...Where would I go...?" His eyes widened at the sound. The last time she'd talked to him was after he'd restored her to life...after he killed Lautrec to get her soul back. He could still remember the devout Undead mocking him, telling him that death was preferable to her continuing an empty life.

He hated that a part of him agreed with that.

"Anywhere, it doesn't matter where," Raziel replied, though a touch of uncertainty had peaked into his voice, "Anything is better than staying here and waiting to die. Anything is better than seeing people die and come back to life, over and over again with nothing you can do but watch. You don't have to sit here and wait for people like Lautrec to kill you. I'll protect you."

He stopped leaning back on the wall and turned to face her, one hand gripping the bars and another reaching out towards her. He wanted to get her out of here.

"You cannot," Anastacia shook her head softly, though a gentle smile had found its way to her lips, "All Firekeepers have the capacity to store Humanity, and this is what makes us the guardians of the flame. Only by sacrificing and maintaining the Humanity within us can the bonfires be strengthened. In this way it is similar to the rite of Kindling you yourself use."

"It doesn't matter," He insisted again, "Just because-"

"There is another reason," She cut him off, "Due to our rampant humanity, we attract the attention of both Hollow and Undead alike. Did you not remember how Lautrec the Embraced coveted my Firekeeper soul?" Her right hand unconsciously went up to her neck, flinching as she remembered how Lautrec slit her throat. He laughed at her as he did it and she still remembered the sadistic glee he had when she felt the crescent blade go from one side of her neck to another.

Of course he remembered. He arrived just seconds too late from stopping him, too late to stop him from killing her and taunting him with the knowledge that it was because Raziel had freed him from his cell in a moment of bad judgement. It was his fault that he managed to get so far.

"The Humanity in our souls attract those seeking power. Those who have Hollowed instinctively search for those whose souls contain humanity, to grasp it for themselves and kill the hosts in order to get it. This is the reason why Hollows never attack one another."

"Yes, I knew that since long ago. But what does-"

"And even individuals that still have their senses seek us out," Anastacia interrupted, "Our Firekeeper souls are coveted by both Hollow and Non-Hollow alike for their rampant humanity and power. There is another reason I stay here: I would be killed if I stepped out, and it has nothing to do with either my duty or my choice. This is the safest place for me."

"That's not..." Raziel looked down, unable to see her face to face. She was right. Even with people like Lautrec coming to kill her, this place was the safest she knew of. The bonfires power kept the monsters away and many Undead who craved her soul still abstained from doing so simply because her death would stop the bonfire from being lit.

What he was suggesting was that she leave this sanctuary, as torturous as it was, to come with someone going on some mad quest to 'Save the World'. Even if he could protect her, what would happen once his journey ended? Would she simply go back here and pretend nothing happened, that she should wait for the next person offering her protection in the vain hope that she could leave again.

"I thank you for your concern, but you have done enough for me. Many would have kept my soul for themselves or devoured it for the humanity it held. You saved me."

"I didn't save you; it was my fault to begin with," He sighed, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I can do. Your legs and tongue were healed but you consider it a sin to talk. You can't even move from beyond this cage or else you'd die. I didn't save you...I can't save you."

His hands smashed against the bars of the cage in frustration. There was nothing he could do. If he tried to help her it would just end in her death and if he did nothing then she would live the rest of her Undeath staying in this God's forsaken pit with nothing and no one to help her. Lautrec's laughter echoed at the back of his head again; taunting him about his failures. There was nothing he could do.

Anastacia looked sad for a moment before she hesitantly reached her right hand out and grabbed hold of his. Raziel looked up slowly and found her smiling at him, "It is alright. You are suffering from your own trials, are you not? Please do not worry about me. The God's have given us both roles in this desolate land."

That was a load of flames. All the God's were husks, either dead or clinging onto whatever power they had left with not much time left. The Witch of Izalith, Gravelord Nito, Seath the Scaleless, and even Gwyn Lord of Sunlight were far gone. Kingseeker Fraampt had outright told him that they had either lost themselves...or they they were no longer useful. Even the God's weren't above treachery.

"You're right," Raziel nodded, "But I promise you that I will get you out of here. When the fires are linked and I take Gwyn's place, promise me that you'll leave this place and don't look back." He didn't know exactly what linking the fires entailed, but it should free her from this sacred duty nonsense right? It had to, "You might be afraid of losing your life, but please don't let it stop you. All of us are afraid of that."

He didn't even know why he worried over her so much. Was he so desperate for companionship that he would expend effort to worrying about people he knew almost nothing about? He didn't know Anastacia. Her background, her personality, and even more than just her role as a firekeeper. The only reason he'd started talking to her was because he became worried for her safety.

So why...? He'd felt the same when talking to Laurentius and even Siegmeyer. It was likely for a selfish reason, whatever it was.

Anastacia nodded with a "Yes", flashing him another grateful smile. Raziel visibly sighed in relief, lips curling into a relaxed smile from underneath the knight helm.

Both of them tightened their hold on each others hands slightly. Even through the cold metal of his armor, he could still feel the warmth radiating from her palm. It was a side effect of being a Firekeeper; their body temperatures were hotter than most. Without his gauntlet he might have ended up finding his skin burned from the heat. That would be a painful experience.

But right now he just found the warmth relaxing. Anastacia made no effort to wrest her hand from his grip and neither did he. They just found themselves staring at the foggy mists of Lordran. The life of an Undead was a terrible one, but with others then the pain could be dulled. Laurentius had gone for the swamps of Blighttown, Solaire had left to look for his sun and Siegmeyer was out adventuring again. The two of them simply took solace in each others company.

"I will save you."

* * *

"By the abyss..." Raziel groaned as another headache spread across his temple. Bandaged and burned hands gripped the side of his head tightly and ragged breaths made their way out of dry lips, "Stupid dreams...need to stop..." He leaned across the wall, sighing in relief at the feeling of the cold stone against his head. It provided a distraction from the searing pain.

Another distant memory had overtaken him not long after he'd left the room. And as he'd found out not too long afterwards, the after-effects of the memories weren't pretty: His head ached, his stomach felt like it had been punched, and his vision seemed to worsen every time he blinked or took a deep breath. It was vaguely similar to how he felt whenever he got too near Blighttown's poisonous swamp.

Was that even him? He honestly couldn't recall him at all. Every time he tried to recall any parts of his former identity he came up blank. He could recall his friends well enough; their personalities, their flaws, and even some of the things they'd done together - mostly early meeting and some conversations. After that everything stopped. Most of his journey were cuts into bits and pieces. He didn't even know what happened to his friends...except for Solaire.

"Solaire..." Flames, he had forgotten about Solaire. He felt a pang of guilt and sorrow at the memory. Solaire had gotten what he wanted, but he died in the process. It was an illusion; he never found his sun. Solaire had lost everything and even allowed himself to turn Undead to find his sun, and he stopped him from fulfilling his dream.

But it wasn't like he had a choice. The person he killed wasn't his friend, not anymore.

Looking for a distraction, Raziel found himself looking up to Halkegenia's twin moons. The two constellations had a certain allure to them; an ethereal beauty that he found himself attracted to. It was silly...

In Lordran, everything was dark. The moon could barely been seen through the all encompassing fog and his time was mostly spent on cramped area's or sprawling labyrinth's, so the only sources of light he usually saw was either his lightstone or the few bonfires he managed to find. Here everything was brightly lit and the moon looked extremely close.

Lordran's sun? It was a fake, an illusion made by Gwyndolin to trick the masses into thinking that the God's still had all their power and that their worship was still justified. Raziel grit his teeth as thought of Gwyndolin manifested into his head again. He wanted to kill him, to make him pay for all those years he spent in the kiln while the 'God' tricked and killed everyone.

If he had the chance, he would take it.

A shiver ran through him as another barrage of wind hit through the area. The nights in Tristain were cold, as he figured out not long after he left the room. Despite a lot of his body being deadened due to his death, he could still feel things like heat and cold. Now he was regretting going out in nothing but a thin shirt and some loose trousers. He needed to find a way to warm himself up.

He racked his brain for a solution before an idea came to him, "Pyromancy..."

Pyromancy was an art that could be learned by anyone, but it was absurdly difficult to do so without either years of training or using souls to augment your power. Raziel himself had taken the latter option due to the lack of a proper pyromancy teacher. Quelana was too reclusive to teach, Laurentius was himself a student, and Eyngyi was...Eyngyi. There wasn't much of a choice there.

"Awake...flames of chaos..." He muttered the incantation under his breath. His right hand...did nothing. He looked down at his bandaged palm and frowned. He knew it wouldn't be that easy.

Raziel took a deep breath and stretched out his bandaged right hand. He hadn't tried summoning his pyromancy flame since he got here, even during the fight with the sorcerer. He tried to convince himself that it was because he was too distracted with everything going on that he forgot, but he knew the truth of it: It wasn't that he wouldn't do it, it was because he couldn't do it.

Closing his eyes and concentrating, he pictured the flame in his mind again. His right hand remained barren for just a few more seconds before a small flame burst forth, destroying the bandages covering his palm and dousing him in a feeling of heat.

"Haha..." The beginnings of a smile passed through his lips before his face contorted in a sudden burst of pain.

Raziel was burning again.

He closed his eyes tightly, mouth parted open in a silent scream. The flame dancing across his palm ignited and he could feel it starting to spread. First on his palm, then his entire hand, then slowly spreading though his arm. The fire burned away at his flesh and tore through the thick bandages before he could focus again, "Disappear..." He muttered the counter spell through pained breaths.

As soon as the words passed from his lips the flames consuming his arm immediately faded. Raziel breathed raggedly, back lying against the wall and trying his best to ignore the pain that shot up his arm whenever he tried to move it. The smell of burning skin and cloth caused him to flinch. It reminded him of his first days in the kiln; trying in vain to lessen his suffering and

The effects were already obvious however; his right arm, which already had parts of it reddened from his injuries, now looked like it had been painted red and ground through jagged rocks. Thankfully he had managed to stop the flames from burning through all of his clothes, though most of his right sleeve had evidently been destroyed by the intense flame. The sleeve reached up to about halfway to his elbow.

"Great..." He looked down at his right arm and grimaced. It hurt. A lot. But he had grown used to pain already, and the most gruesome thing about it was its appearance mostly. The ironic thing? It still looked better than when he spent his days as a Hollowed out husk. At least the burned arm still looked like it had more than just bare bones and rotting skin. Granted that was mostly because it looked like badly cooked meat, but it was something.

There was something else that worried him. That flame was way too strong, and he didn't mean for it to be that way. He wanted to excuse it and say it was just a fluke. The truth was obvious however.

He couldn't control the pyromancy flame anymore. Whenever the thought of using the flame passed his mind his arms immediately convulsed and he found himself flinching as his recent imprisonment permeated his mind. Of course he couldn't use the only other weapon he had; that would've been too merciful, and fate and whatever God was still alive/hadn't killed yet out there obviously wanted him to suffer for their amusement.

Quelana told him to "Always fear the flame, lest you be devoured by it and lose yourself". The message was clear: One had to pay respect to the flame. And though fear needed to be exercised, one also needed will and determination. Everyone could learn pyromancy, but not everyone could actually control it. Control came from the rare individuals who could balance both their fear and reverence with control and strength.

The first time he managed to successfully use his Flame was during his fight with the Gaping glutton. Fear had gripped him when he first saw it, but after fear there was something else: The will to fight and survive. That was what allowed him to manifest the chaotic magic within him and what allowed him to continue to use it afterwards. Danger was the trigger.

And right now, his fear of the flames overtook everything else. He'd spent too long in the Kiln. Too long that his body and very soul had been marked by its heat and fire. He was no longer the same person; he was something else entirely.

Raziel just hoped no one would see him like this In his pathetic state.

"Mr. Familiar!"

And of course, right as he thought of that, fate (or maybe it was Kaathe and Frampt; both seemed evil enough) decided to be its usual self and have someone find him.

Siesta rushed towards him and knelt down, looking worriedly at his ragged form, "Mr. Familiar, what happened? Your arm..." She pointed a shaky finger at the freshly burnt arm. The maid felt bile rise to her throat as the smell of the recently cooked flesh reached her nostrils, "D-Did you get attacked? What happened?"

"Siesta..." Raziel forced his voice to stay calm and ensure it didn't waver, "What are...you doing here?" He shook his head. Not the time to ask that question, "I'm fine...just had an accident...don't worry" He did his best to give her a re-assuring smile.

It didn't work, "Wh-What do you mean an accident!?" She asked hysterically, "Your arm looks like it's been cooked by Orcs!"

Orcs? Flames, that didn't sound good, "Don't worry..." He repeated again, "It's my fault...I got distracted...and this happened," He raised his reddened arm slightly before it crashed to the ground again. Both Undead and Maid flinched at the squishy sound of it hitting the grassy floor, "...Just let it heal...and then I'll be...fine..." Woah, so he could go 4 words now. At least his throat was healing.

"Don't be silly!" Raziel blinked at how loud her voice was. Why did she sound so determined? "Th-This isn't something that you can just ignore! Let me help."

She rummaged in her skirt pocket for a few seconds before pulling out the desired item, "Bandages?" Raziel asked. What in the void was she doing carrying around packets of the white cloth? "Why do you...have that?"

Siesta didn't answer his question, focusing more on gently bandaging the burned arm of her friend. While she wasn't what one would call a healer, she was adept at treating injuries due to her background: Living with brothers and her somewhat bull-headed father at the very least taught her how to bandage up or close small wounds and slight burns. While she couldn't do anything for people who were near death - which was what he seemed to be when she first saw him - she could at least try to heal his wounds.

As for the reason she had bandages in the first place? Call it a woman's intuition.

Raziel just watched her, trying to ignore the headaches threatening to burst into his head again. He didn't have the heart to tell Siesta that she was actually making his injuries slightly worse since her idea of medical help basically amounted to wrapping the bandages as tightly as she could around the affected area. While this was generally a good idea for heavily bleeding wounds and even up to minor burns, it was pretty damn horrible when someone's arm felt like it had just gotten barbecued by an annoyed Pyromancer. Damn, he needed an Estus.

**"Believe it or not, the people of Oolacile brought this upon themselves. Fooled by that toothy serpent, they upturned the grave of Primeval man."**

**"You are Undead as well? Then we've no time to fraternize. I have my mission, and you no doubt have yours. We must not let this curse overcome us."**

**"The Four Kings were powerful men, only...their hearts were weak. When an evil serpent dangled the art of Lifedrain before them, they were unable to resist, and became pawns of evil."**

"There, all done!" Siesta smiled up at him, knocking him out of his reverie. Raziel determined to himself that he would not so much as mutter a single complaint at the well-meaning but uncomfortably painful treatment. The pain at least let him focus on something else.

"Thank you..." He forced smile and flexed his right arm, causing an uncomfortable shock of pain to run through the appendage. The smile never left his face, "You healed me...thank you..." He repeated again, silently cursing in his head at how tight the bandages were. He couldn't believe people used these things! Flames, it was like being wrapped around with a sewer slime.

Maybe it would've been better to leave it untreated...

"What are...you doing here?" He finally decided to ask again.

"Huh?" She looked confused for a second before the question registered, "O-Oh, most of the maids and servants wake up early during the early days of the school year. Since it's near morning, most of us are already preparing the food and cleaning the Alviss hall."

**"I became Undead to pursue this!"**

**"This knight of Catarina expresses his most sincere gratitude."**

**"A wise choice, indeed. Maiden Thorolund and her followers recently arrived in this land, but she became stranded deep below the Catacombs. Her followers either fled, or were reduced to Hollows…leaving Maiden Thorolund all alone. Not a bad tip, huh? A nubile cleric would be replete with humanity…"**

"...Right..." Raziel nodded absently. Flames and Damnation! His head was spinning, his vision swam, and he felt like killing himself just so he could distract himself from the memories that continued to pulse inside him. He needed a distraction, something else to focus on other than the rapid memories filling his head.

"Well, should we get you back to Miss. Valliere's room?" Siesta's voice reached his ears, "I'll deliver the laundry to her room-"

"Siesta...!" Raziel stopped her mid explanation and grabbed her outstretched hand.

The maid felt her face heat up at the contact, "Yes, what is it?" Good, she managed to keep her voice calm, though she was pretty sure her face looked like a ripe tomato by now. As long as nothing else happened she would be fine.

"Take me..."

...

It took about 10 seconds for his words to register, but when they did her reaction was instantaneous, "EHHHHHH!" Siesta shrieked loudly, face going from slightly red to a blazing inferno, "W-W-Wait, could you please repeat that!? I don't think I heard you properly!" She shrieked loudly at him, causing another annoying pang of pain to overtake his head. God's, couldn't she lower her voice?

"I said...take me..." He repeated, albeit slower this time so she wouldn't miss it.

_'He said "take me", right? I didn't mishear him, right? Why would he say that!?' _Siesta thought frantically. Undoubtedly those were words of confession...but wasn't it usually said by females? The two words had multiple meanings: First meaning that they wish to be accepted, the second meaning the physical act of of acceptance, and the third was...intimacy-

It wasn't like she hated him; contrary to the fact, she actually thought they were pretty good friends in the short time they'd known each other considering what he'd done for her. But wasn't this rushing it a bit? She never put 'the act' and him in the the same train of thought...and it had nothing to do with his constant injuries. It was because of their relationship so far.

Raziel watched with uncertainty as Siesta's face once again became engulfed in red...again. Was this a normal occurrence to the people of this place? His Master tended to share the same look when she got angry and started yelling.

And more importantly, what was it that triggered the reaction? Was she angry at him because he wanted to come with her and get his master's clothes? Were the reddened faces caused by more than anger? The only person he'd seen with the same crimson color was his master, and this was usually followed by a lot of yelling. Well, in a sense, Siesta was indeed yelling. She just sounded less furious about it.

"W-We can't, Mr. Familiar," Siesta finally managed to speak out, "Y-Y-You and I are friends, and friends normally don't do these kids- I mean kinds of things together!" She babbled in a rush, nearly incoherently. Raziel looked even more confused at the rushed explanation.

Okay, so they had to be something else other than friends - hmm, she was the first person who called him that - just to get the laundry? Weird...

"Why not...?" He asked, honestly wondering, "Can't we do it...I need it..." He needed to distract himself from the constant headaches, and he already forgot about the laundry because of everything that happened a few hours ago.

"Why do you need it!?" Siesta never figured him for someone like Lord Guiche, "Shouldn't you wait till you find someone you love and trust and whatnot?"

Love and trust? Okay, this was getting kind of absurd. Since when did they need love and trust to wring clothes dry and fold them (as Siesta told him when he asked what to do afterwards yesterday)? That would be like saying you had to absolutely had to hate someone to attack them. While he had attacked and killed many monsters and individuals - or at least that's what some of his retained memories told him - he didn't particularly hate all them.

**"Oh, hello again. We're both managing quite well, aren't we? But I haven't found my father yet. Have you seen him?"**

**"Halt! This is the tomb of the Great Lord Gwyn. Tarnished, it shall not be, by the feet of men. If thou art a true discipline of the Dark Sun, cast aside thine ire,  
hear the voice of mineself, Gwyndolin, and kneel before me."**

**"O chosen Undead. I am Gwynevere. Daughter of Lord Gwyn; and Queen of Sunlight. Since the day Father his form did obscureth, I have await'd thee."**

Okay, he needed to distract himself now, "Let's go..."

He stood up on shaky legs and grabbed at Siesta's hand, dragging her haphazardly despite her protests. She couldn't so much as utter a peep as the pale Undead took her towards wherever he planned to take her.

* * *

Louise woke up to find herself alone. Groggily she looked around the dark room, looking for any sign of her Familiar, only to be met with disappointment as he appeared to have gone without a trace. She didn't know whether she should feel irritated he left without her permission or happy that she was in no more risk of being choked to death in her sleep.

The tired pinkette slowly rose from her bed, ignoring the feeling of cold on her bare feet as they touched the ground. She wouldn't be able to sleep now that she woke up. Besides, she had a hunch it was already pretty close to early morning and she didn't want to wake up late if she could help it. Better she spent her time studying.

While she was indeed a 'Zero' (though she would never call herself that) in magic, she was practically the top of her grade when it came to the theorem's and written parts of magic. And, though the teachers never bothered to say it out loud, it was pretty obvious to her that her grades were the only reason they didn't kick her out a year in with her producing nothing but explosions.

"I should study in advance for the next lesson," She mumbled aloud to herself, already making her way to her desk and grabbing a thick book on the 'Theory of Fire magic' from her bookcase, "Mr. Colbert said we'd get tested on the various theory's about fire's extreme heat and how it's produced...why am i talking to myself?" She shook her head left and right and tried to shake the grogginess from herself. She needed to focus.

"Chapter 2," She sighed, slightly irritated already. Just because she was the top when it came to academics didn't mean she actually enjoyed spending almost her entire time reading textbook upon textbook while her classmates were practicing their spells. This was something she didn't share with her balding Professor; regardless of how much he tried to convince her otherwise.

And so she read. Sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph, page after page. The information in the books were memorized, stored in her head, and then taken note of for possible future use. She didn't even bother trying to understand what most of them meant; just memorize and store. Understanding would have taken too long and wasted too much time she could have used studying something else.

"Chapter 5," Louise felt her eyes droop out of boredom and she slammed the book against the wooden table. Hard.

Unfortunately, the weight of the heavy textbook caused most of her utensils sitting on the desk to crash down both all over the table and onto the floor. Louise grit her teeth and resisted the urge to yell in frustration. Her reputation was already in the toilet after everything that had happened and she didn't want her classmates to call her out on screaming so early in the morning.

"Damn," She sucked in her frustration and picked up the quills, inkwells, and loose pieces of paper that were scatted all over the desk. In hindsight, it might have actually been a good thing this happened. Brimir knows when was the last time she'd actually bothered cleaning up the desk. This was her chance to tidy up and organize her needed studies and throw away the extra, unneeded ones.

It was after 10 minutes of doing this that she finally picked up the last piece of clutter: A slightly crumpled envelope. The item looked completely plain save for a few animal drawing on the side.

"Big sis..." She looked down at the envelope sadly. This was the letter her older sister Cattleya had sent her a week prior to the summoning test. She couldn't find it in herself to actually read the contents for fear of it making her feel even more anxious. Cattleya often sent her letters and she often sent one back immediately after she read them. She didn't want to hear her words of encouragement till after the day itself. She'd stuffed it between some of her thicker books and promised to answer back if...when she got her new Familiar.

This was the first time she didn't read her sister's letter. In all the excitement (though she herself would call it chaos) that happened the past 2 days she had forgotten all about her sister's missives. Immediately she could feel the guilt eating away at her. It was her constant letters to her older sister just a year ago that started this little back and forth. Cattleya was sick and Louise didn't know how affected she was spending her time making these letters.

And now she didn't even bother to answer her properly, or even read the letter? It wasn't right.

She'd promised herself she wouldn't read the letter till she got her Familiar. Technically, didn't...what was his name again? He didn't say anything about a name and she didn't bother naming him as per the standard norm. Maybe she should rectify that when she had the chance.

...Anyway, he counted as far as both she and he were concerned.

With trembling hands, Louise broke the seal of the worn envelope and slowly pulled out the immaculate paper. Despite the many days it had spent stuck between the thick books, the paper inside still looked crisp and new. Steeling herself, she unfolded the parchment and read the paper.

_"My dearest Louise," _

_"Little Louise, how are you? Your last letter a few days ago has me worried. _

_"You told me that you were worried about the Familiar Summoning Ritual. I beg of you to not be afraid."_

_"More than anyone, I believe you are capable of great things. Please do not concern yourself with how others talk about you."_

_"I believe in you; now and forever. I know you'll summon something very fitting for your gentle nature."_

_"But let us not talk forever on this. How go your studies? I hope you are not losing sleep trying to understand everything."_

_"Remember. The best can only come when you are ready for it. Trying to force yourself will not accomplish anything."  
_

_"I know it doesn't mean anything when I say something like that, and that I am not the best example, but please do not push yourself too much. You do not want to become sickly like me."_

_"I hope that when the time comes, you find the Familiar that you seek. Take this chance for both me and you."  
_

_"I have to go now. Mother calls for me to come back to my room. She has been trying to teach me how to knit like she taught you years ago. With any luck I should be able to make a sweater for you by the time we see each other again."  
_

_"I love you Louise. We all do." _

_"Yours lovingly,  
Cattleya" _

Louise felt tears drop from her eyes and onto the parchment. Her hands shook, trying to control themselves. She needed to be strong for her.

She missed her sister. She missed seeing her smile again, to spend time with the one person in the family who never called her a failure and never stop believing in her. She wanted to see her again. To see that gentle smile and think that nothing was wrong.

Her chest hurt. This happened whenever she felt pangs of homesickness and regret. It had been over a year since she'd seen her sister now. She hadn't gone home the previous summer; too ashamed to face her family that she had nothing to show even after all her studies during her first year in the Academy of magic. She didn't want to face their disappointment.

**"This child is too troublesome!"**

**"Eleanor, stay quiet."**

**"But she is! Earth, Water, Fire, Wind. All of it ends in explosions and disasters!"**

They didn't mean for her to hear that. They never knew she was passing by in the hallway when they were having that conversation. She was a child, barely into her teens when she heard Eleanor call her a problem and a disaster that wouldn't amount to anything no matter what. She kept her feelings bottled up and refused to let them out for anyone but Cattleya. Only she knew.

One of Cattleya's last words rang at her again, "Take this chance for both me and you."

Her sister couldn't summon a Familiar. They had tried ten years ago when Louise was merely 6 years of age and she could never forget what had happened: Cattleya, crumpled on the ground and coughing up blood, trying to re-assure everyone that she was fine. Her Mother and Father, already worried about Cattleya, outright dragging her out of the room when she tried to continue the spell. And her oldest sister Eleanore comforting her, blocking her eyes and telling her not to look and saying Cattleya would be fine. It was the first and last time she'd been that gentle with the youngest Valliere.

She wanted her to summon a Familiar. Not only to finally prove she was a mage to her parents and Eleanor, but to see the happy smile on her face when she finally proved it to herself. She wanted Louise to do what she could never be able to.

And the worst part of it was Louise didn't know whether she had succeeded or failed.

Wiping away her tears quickly, Louise grabbed her own parchment and took a quill lying on her desk. She needed to answer back.

_"Dearest sister,_

_"I hope that this letter finds you well. I'm sorry for not answering sooner."_

_"So much has happened in the last two days that I can scarcely believe it myself. Even now a part of me wishes that it was a dream."_

_"The Springtime Familiar Ritual was a success...maybe."_

_"I do not know how to explain it myself. I had indeed summoned a Familiar. I had summoned a human" _

_"But, it...he is unlike any other."_

_"When I first summoned him he did not appear human, He came out of an explosion; a corpse wreathed in flames and missing skin" _

_"I had never been so scared in my life. I thought I had killed someone by accident. But then he began to move, shambling towards me like he wanted revenge for the flames lapping at him. It was like a scene out of the scariest horror novel we used to read together,"_

_"But then he stopped, and crumpled to the ground. And...I didn't know what came over me, but I walked towards him. I completed the ritual and I-  
_

_He changed. Where there was once a corpse now there was a boy, barely older than I. His body was marred in horrific burn wounds, but he was no doubt human. He speaks our language, moves just like any commoner, but I feel apprehensive of him. Like there is something unnatural about him."_

_I know, this must sound so absurd to you, but please know that I would never tell a lie regarding this. I didn't know what to make of him, especially when I saw him fight."  
_

_"Oh yes, the fight."_

_"You remember General de Gramont, yes? His fourth son Guiche attends the academy."_

_"Something happened, I am not sure what, but my Familiar ended up with odds against him. I tried to apologize in his stead, but he refused to bow down to him and they fought."_

_"But he won. Dear Founder, he actually beat a mage."_

_"He used no magic, no guns, and yet he won. The only thing he had on him was a tray and his own brute strength. A tray! He managed to beat a noble with nothing but his bare hands and a serving implement."_

_"But sister, he did something that I have never seen before: He came back to life! When Guiche's Valkyrie managed to stab him through, I thought he had died. But when Guiche got closer he suddenly sprang up, nearly choking him. Afterwards he even pulled the spear from his stomach. No blood gushed from the wound. I am sure of this"_

_"I still do not know what to make of this. A part of me is glad that the Familiar I summoned is capable of defending me, but another is scared. He nearly killed Guiche and he already refused to follow my commands for him to not fight. Would he come for me next if he so wished?"_

_"I am scared, but I will not let fear rule me. Mother taught me better than that."_

_"I do not know if he is monster or man. But I promise this: He is my Familiar, and I am his master. Nothing will change that."_

_Yours lovingly,  
Louise.  
_

_P.S. Please do not worry about my studies. I am doing well there. Please get well soon."_

With a sigh of relief, Louise gave a small smile and tucked the letter into a spare envelope. She would deliver this to the mailer when she and her Familiar got into town later. Simply faster and more convenient that way.

* * *

In the courtyard, a battle of wits and patience was currently underway.

"Please fold the clothes like so."

"Like this?" He folded it clumsily and crumpled it. Raziel looked at the black skirt in his hands in utter confusion. How was he supposed to fold this damn thing? The irritation from the burns on his fingers certainly didn't do him any favors in the finesse department. On the bright side, his throat had at least healed some more and he could talk somewhat normally without pausing or lisping at the end. Still couldn't go more than 4 without stopping though.

"No, like this," Siesta half-sighed half-laughed at his clumsy attempt to fold the lower uniform, "You have to fold the edges inwards first and then put the top to the bottom."

"What edges?" Raziel gave the skirt a glare of frustration and contemplated dunking it on the fountain again. Shame it wasn't alive; he would've drowned it to relieve some tension.

Not long after they'd arrived, Raziel had asked for her help in picking up the laundry. It didn't take long for Siesta to realize that her mind had gone off tangent (again) and she started imagining things that were never there. She really should've known better anyway. He had that 'innocent' (though others might call it stupid) feel about him that just said he wasn't the type of person to ask for that kind of thing.

It wasn't like she was disappointed or anything.

...

Yep, not at all.

"Here, the edges of the skirt," She took said skirt from his hands and held onto the sides of the bottom, "First you fold this inwards like so and then you grab the top," She grabbed the waistband this time, "And you fold it down. It should look similar to a rectangle or a square by the time you're done with it."

"Like a shield," Raziel commented with a slight smile, "Why does master have...so many clothes?" He grabbed another cloth from the pile - a uniform shirt this time - and started folding it like Siesta told him, "Seems so difficult."

"Everybody needs a change of clothes. Life would be so difficult if we all wore the same thing all the time." Siesta replied.

"But... it is the same," He pointed at the black and white maid uniform, "You wore it yesterday...why not remove it?"

"This...This is different," She blushed and grabbed turned towards the pile of clothes again. He really needed to work on his phrasing, "This is my official uniform for the academy and my job. I can't exactly wear what pleases me whenever I want."

"Why not?" Raziel found talking with her to be quite relaxing for his head. The noises of the water being wrung from the clothes, the chirping birds that were beginning to wake up, and even their own conversation consistently blocked out the bits and pieces of disjointed memory that went into his head every 2 minutes. While he did want to find out more about his past, he wasn't exactly willing to burst his head open for them. It would come more slowly.

"Academy rules, of course!" She smiled good-naturedly at the oblivious Undead, "Everyone wears a designated uniform as long as they stay here. From the lowliest servant to the headmaster himself, everyone follows these rules."

Raziel suddenly felt self-conscious at the clothes he wore. Looking down, he saw the hole at the front of his chest and half of his right sleeve burnt off past his elbow.

Siesta saw his gaze and immediately moved to correct him, "Oh no, don't worry about it! Because of your...unique situation, the rule doesn't apply to you," She reassured him.

"But I thought the rule applies to everyone?"

"Well, it does! But...oh, just stop worrying!" By habit, she slapped his right arm playfully.

Well, playfully for her. Raziel felt like he'd just been smacked with a hammer. Damn pyromancy, he needed to get it in control soon to prevent another roasting. Siesta quickly realized her mistake and moved to apologize.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! It's just that I'm used to doing it when I'm joking with friends and-"

"It's alright," Raziel forced himself to smile. Damn it hurt, "You helped me earlier...it's okay," He sucked in a pained cry and grabbed the last piece of cloth from the fountain. They had to lightly dip the clothes in again since it got too crusty from being out in the sun too much. Laundry was so complicated.

"No wait, let me handle that. You're hurt." She grabbed the uniform's sleeve and pulled it towards her gently. Raziel didn't let go, "No really, I insist."

"It's okay...I'll do it." He tugged the uniform's body towards him, "I don't mind...please let me."

Raziel grabbed the uniform first, Siesta tried to grab it from him afterwards. What started out as friendly insistence soon turned to an impromptu tug of war game between maid and warrior. Siesta only had hold of the sleeves so she didn't have much material to pull on, but she had the advantage of both hands not being charred meat. An advantage she was all too willing to take

"No, I insist!" She'd stood up now, grabbing the right sleeve with both hands and pulled.

What came next was sort of a blur. Raziel let go of the shirt's body; the frustration and burning feeling on his right arm making him lose his grip and crippling his normal strength. Siesta, who had continued to tug on the now vacant piece of cloth and - and now lacking a counter-force to her pulling - ended up falling backwards towards the fountain with nothing to balance her.

"Siesta!" Instincts kicked in quickly and he rushed forward, trying to grab her before she fell. He couldn't fight as effectively as he one could - or at least not yet - but surely even he could stop someone from falling, right?

Judging by the splash and spluttering sounds, he'd ultimately failed in his task.

Both Raziel and Siesta coughed and spluttered, doing their best to ensure none of the water clogged up their noses or got into their mouth. Somehow the thought of swallowing water that his master's/Miss. Valliere's underwear had been in recently didn't really appeal to either of them. The former in particular would've liked to avoid being poisoned since he didn't have any moss on him.

"Siesa...are you okay?" Raziel shook his head to shake the water off. At least it didn't stick like the waters in Blighttown.

Siesta didn't answer, too busy trying to keep her thoughts in check. She'd narrowly avoided having her entire body dunked in the small fountain's waters due to Raziel's efforts. He had managed to wrap his right hand around her back and used his left to as a sort of pillar to keep stable; a temporary solution. The water in the fountain had splashed all over their upper bodies, though it had thankfully avoid their lower parts.

Unfortunately, this had the unintended side-effect of them being stuck. Already Raziel's remaining arm shook from the effort of keeping both him and the flustered maid from falling, and the fact that his arm bandages were being doused in water didn't help.

If he let go of Siesta now he could avoid falling in, but then she would fall and the entire thing would've have been pointless. On the other hand, Siesta really couldn't do much of anything since her legs were already halfway into falling completely and her arms were wrapped around his upper body. Once Raziel's arm gave away, momentum would take them again and they would fall.

"I'll live, thank you," She tried to speak as calmly as she could. Her eyes were already wandering around his chest. While she was lucky enough to wear black, he had the misfortune to wear white, and now his bare chest was easily seen through the moist cloth.

Well...bare might have been an exaggeration. Siesta didn't know whether to be glad or disappointed that bandages covered just about every inch of his chest, save for a few empty areas on his upper left side. Then again, there most likely would have been a lot of burns under the bandages, so maybe she should have been glad.

Siesta found it kind of silly. Shouldn't she have been disgusted? Her friend was a walking example on the dangers on fire magic. Over half his body seemed to be burnt or injured at any given time and he wore dirty and destroyed clothes. People with his description would have been used on lectures to scare mages on the dangers of magic or examples for soldiers to avoid getting hit by gunfire and magic. He looked broken.

And yet she couldn't find herself to be disgusted, not even a bit. Was it because she felt pity for his state or gratitude for saving her earlier? She honestly didn't know.

"That's good," Raziel grimaced as his left arm shook again. He wouldn't last much longer, "I'm really wet," He said the first thing that came to his mind.

The blush on her face intensified even more before she managed to get her thoughts in order again. He didn't mean what she thought he meant, and she REALLY needed to stop reading so many trashy romance novels, "We'll dry off when we get out of here," Right now she was wishing she just fell in. It would've at least look less compromising.

Ask and you shall receive.

Raziel's arm finally gave way and both of them found themselves plummeting down towards the fountain. With a loud splash, the two flailed around on the fountain for just a few seconds before finally getting control of themselves.

"Mr. Familiar?" She turned towards him and immediately had to resist the urge to laugh.

Raziel had practically faceplanted on the fountain. His stomach was on the fountain's edge and his butt hung in the air; his legs and arms flailing comically as he tried to balance himself and move out of the water's range. She probably would have been better off asking if he was okay, but the urge to laugh and her refusal to do so meant she was tongue tied at the moment.

Siesta herself was no better off: She'd landed butt first on the fountain and her skirt had spread around like a blimp, exposing her undergarments to anyone who happened to pass by. Still, she was better off than him all things considered.

She was the first to pull herself up, quickly grabbing his flailing arms and dragging him out of the fountain afterwards. Raziel took a few deep gulps of air before giving her a grateful nod. He thought he was going to die there, which might have been convenient since Siesta had told him about bonfires earlier - apparently they were called Fireplaces and Hearth's around here. Oh well, he wasn't going to question their naming sense.

"Flames," He grunted and looked at the bandages on his arms. It had gotten wet, along with every other part of his upper body. He needed to change them.

"Mr. Familiar, we should change those bandages," Siesta suggested, smiling re-assuredly and brandishing the bandages she had from earlier. They had stayed dry, much to Siesta's good fortune.

And much to Raziel's great misfortune.

"It's alright...I can-" He didn't get to finish before Siesta forced him to sit down on the ground and remove his wet shirt, "I'm okay-"

"Oh hush, just let me help," She pursed her lips and began unwrapping the bandages. She wouldn't take no for an answer. This unfortunately meant he would start feeling like he was wearing a slime all over his body.

Raziel could have fought her off; he was certainly stronger than her and he could still use his pyromancy as a desperation attack if need be. But, there was something in the way she was so concerned about him that made him stop. In his fractured memories, he couldn't recall anyone ever being so concerned for him. Sure Solaire and Siegmeyer gave him token amounts of concern, but they never actually helped him in this capacity before. This was the first time he had experienced something like this.

"Mr. Familiar, does it hurt anywhere?" He shook his head, and she somehow missed how he gritted his teeth at how tight the bandages on his arms were, "Alright, then I'll unwrap the bandages on your chest and we can finish. Please stay still."

Siesta unwrapped the bandages around his chest slowly, mentally preparing herself to see whatever horror lied behind the thick cloth.

As it turns out? Not as bad as she thought.

When she removed the bandages she expected dark red skin. She expected his body to look like it had gotten mangled by a rabid dog and then burnt by an irate fire mage. What she found instead were patches of red that looked like they were already halfway finished healing. Sure they were red and numerous, but they looked more like light crimson spots than deep injuries of a fatal man. With a small sigh of relief, Siesta began her work.

Now that Raziel's mind was no longer distracted, the memories began to eke in again. He just let them in this time. Maybe the headache would at least distract him from the feeling on his arms.

**"-why is this no surprise?"**

**"Because our destinies run together- ...like two rivers that have crossed and can never be distinct again. At your every fatal turn, you will find me."**

**"And the free will that you said was mine, what has become of that?"**

**"You still have it. And that has everything to do with my presence here now."**

**"It was your machinations that set everything in motion. The coin you tossed has struck. Now you must abide by its outcome."**

**"The coin is still turning- ...To reach the resolution we both can live with-"**

**"Because you do not wish it? Is my free will to be exercised only when it accords to your whim-"**

"All done!" Raziel was jarred out of the memory by Siesta's chirpy voice, "You don't have as much burns as the nurses think. I only found a few patches and they already look like they're healing."

Shaking his head to get rid of the memory, he felt around his chest and sighed in relief. They weren't as constricting as the bandages on his arms and Siesta had managed to copy the previous pattern the nurses had given him earlier. At least he would still be able to dodge and roll if a fight happened.

"Thank you." God's, that memory felt odd. Was that one of those coming from his late journey? The two voices sounded completely unfamiliar to him.

"You're welcome!" Siesta nodded cheerfully, "I have to go Mr. Familiar. My duties can't wait and I need to change uniform before my shift officially starts. See you later!"

Raziel smiled and waved goodbye at his friend. Taking a few more seconds to catch his breath, he put on his discarded shirt and grabbed the pile of laundry before making his way back to his master's bedroom.

* * *

As expected, he had gotten lost...again. Sunrise was coming and he found himself once again wandering the halls of the school; trying to figure out how to get back to his master's bedroom. The next time he left that room he would make a map or leave a trail of prism stones or something. Even Anor Londo wasn't this bad, and that place had him walk on the rooftop's thin walkways.

And as if that weren't bad enough, he had to run into someone he really didn't want to meet right now.

Guiche paced at the entrance of the door, memorizing lines in his mind and shaking his head constantly at whatever bothered him. Raziel immediately made to turn around before he caught sight of him, but he was too late.

"You!" The blond hair, the flamboyant pose, the annoying voice, and the stupid rose. Yes, it was him; the sorcerer who had asked him to duel. He was inwardly hoping that he just run into another flamboyant idiot with no sense, but he was apparently one of a kind when it came to that.

"Oh by the God's," Raziel muttered silently to himself. He didn't need this right now.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Despite his commanding words, Guiche didn't move from his spot against the door. In fact, Raziel could see his legs shaking even as he struck another dramatic pose with his rose, "There is a question I would like to ask of you."

"What?" Raziel did his best to keep his voice level. He shouldn't be holding grudges. After all, he won that duel - even if it was by technicality - and he still didn't go through his promise of firing Siesta or killing him.

"I...I would just like to confirm something," Guiche mumbled, suddenly losing the commanding voice, "I had heard that Valliere and the headmaster are not posing charges to either my father or the entire Gramont family. Is this true?"

While she was a 'Zero', Louise was still a member of the esteemed Valliere family; the second most powerful family in all o Halgakenia. While Guiche had forgotten in all his impulsiveness, he remembered later on that he had technically killed her Familar. Or at least he appeared to have done so. Killing a Familiar was considered a grave crime. Even if he was an actor playing as her Familiar, he couldn't take the risk of upsetting the laws of her family.

Hmm, he did hear something about that, "Um, yes...they aren't," Right, that old sorcerer mentioned something about not pressing charges due to one reason or another. Honestly he didn't really pay attention since he didn't think it concerned him all that much.

"T...Truly? Are you lying in order to spite me?" Guiche asked.

"No..."

"W-Well then, that's good!" His confidence had returned to his voice once again and he found himself re-invigorated, "Well then, send a message to your master for me, would you?"

Raziel nodded silently, already eager to leave his presence.

"Tell her that I thank her for not taking this to our families and..." He stopped and mumbled something incoherently. To the average person he might have been impossible to hear, but to someone who had learned to listen for the smallest sounds he could hear it just fine, "That I apologize for taking things too far. For both you and her."

He was apologizing? That was a surprise. Technically Guiche wasn't expecting him to hear the next bit, but it was the thought that counted, "Understood," Raziel bowed politely at him before looking at the door Guiche was standing in front of. The blond nobleman noticed his gaze and sighed.

"I'm trying to apologize to Montmorency but she won't speak to me. And neither will Katie for that matter. I guess her concern for me only lasted till- Hey, why am I telling you this anyway? Go tell your master my message!"

With an amused roll of the eyes, Raziel left the planning noble to his musings. He needed to deliver that message.

* * *

"Where have you been!?"

The first thing that greeted Raziel when he opened the door was his master's voice yelling at him.

"Gone without permission and you leave till the start of the day! What were you thinking!?" Louise stomped around the room angrily, yelling at him for whatever crossed her mind, "And what in the void happened to your arm!? Did you get in a fight with a fire mage this time!?"

"I got the laundry," He held up the basket of dried clothes and, just for a second, Louise's feature's softened and a look of surprise crossed her eyes. It didn't take long for her to go back to angry though.

"You didn't answer my second question." Louise tsked and pointed at his right arm, which had noticeable more bandages than the last. They also looked tighter on his skin, but that didn't matter much to her.

Raziel shrugged and mumbled, "Accident," He didn't want to tell her about his wrecked pyromancy. He would get in control of it soon anyway.

"Well you still should have asked for my permission!" Louise reminded him angrily, though a hint of embarrassment had crossed into her voice. Evidently she'd expected him to go out and do something without forethought - which was in fact his original plan when he first left - not leave for laundry she herself had actually forgotten because of everything that had happened; accident notwithstanding.

"Come on, we need to go into town to get you a new weapon. Don't want you to try and cut off the tail of Tabitha's dragon again."

...But he liked cutting dragon's tails off. They made a nice squishy sound when he pierced his sword through them and dragon's always had this tendency to give off a really satisfying cry when they realized that they just lost a major appendage.

Flames, he really needed to focus.

"Come on, we'll get a horse from the stables.:

* * *

On the way to the stables, Raziel explained how he had met Guiche and the message that he had been sent to give. He left the part of the message about the apology out however. Guiche obviously didn't want it to be known that he was apologizing and Raziel wasn't going to press it on Louise without his consent. He'd apologize himself if he really needed to.

Louise had brushed off the message. Obviously he was just trying to kiss up to her good will because he thought she had the power to make complaints against his family. If she did have that kind of power, she would've used it a long time ago.

"Here, since this is just a simple trip to town we'll just be using one horse."

Raziel wasn't listening to her, too entranced at the _thing_ sitting at the stable's entrance. It reminded him of a wolf somewhat, only larger - though way small than Sif - and less furry. It stood on all fours and its nose and mouth were elongated downwards. Across the back of its brown body he could see some sort of leather accessory that looked liked armor, along with a few rope things hanging from its mouth. It was one of the most bizarre things he'd seen since his escape from the flames.

"What, don't tell me you don't know what a horse is?" When he continued to stare, Louise sighed and palmed her head against her face, "This is horse. We use for transportation to various places." She explained slowly. For Brimir's sake, it was like she was talking to a child!

"Transportation?" Now that he understood. Only, how was this 'horse' supposed to fly? It didn't look to have any wings, unlike the Asylum crow or the demon in Anor Londo.

"Yes, transportation" Louise sarcastically complimented. With a weary sigh, she climbed atop the horses saddle before pulling him up. It took a few tries at first, mostly because he kept falling or refused to get on without the construct sword she'd already thrown away, but the two of them finally managed to get on the saddle and Louise spurred them forward.

The 2 hour ride was spent in silence. Louise focused on the road ahead, mentally counting on how much she'd spend buying both a decent blade and some armor to replace the rags he wore along with trying to ignore the vice grip her Familiar had around her stomach. It was a good thing she hadn't eaten breakfast yet or else she'd probably be finding herself tasting it a second time.

Raziel for his part simply marveled at the horses speed. If he had one of these things in Lordran then his journey would've gone MUCH easier.

It was nearly mid-morning when they reached the town, and damn if it wasn't a beautiful sight: The first thing the two of them saw was the grand palace, home of the royal family and the most important place in all of Tristain. What followed afterwards was the village itself; houses, establishments, and various other buildings met them head on as the horse got closer to the town's entrances.

While Louise looked up at the royal palace, Raziel looked below. The people there were so diverse. Some yelled out for people to buy their wares while families spent the day together in each others company. While he had seen a lot of people during his stay in his master's school, this was his first time seeing an area so rich and diverse...but so well balanced. Everything looked so perfectly placed there.

"Hey, this is your first time in a town like this, right? What do you think of it?"

"Like a world of wonders."

* * *

**Alright, done! Now to answer some questions and then I'll go get some sleep.**

**Rickrolled**** - What do you mean "21'st century personality"? Is it because of the way he talks? I tend to have a problem with this myself since I often question of making him talk semi-modernly in the flashbacks is a good thing or not. Any tips on this? I really don't want to go on the "Old English route" unless it's for characters like Gough or Gwyndolin who canonically talk like that.**

**Oh, and for the lore questions: Give me any info on Manus you can find. I wanna know everything about this guy. PM me when you can.**

**Demon's Anarchy - Honestly, Dragon form isn't that impressive. All it really does is give you a dragon head that farts out flame and NOTHING ELSE. She'd be scared at first...till she realizes only his head changed and the dragon stone gave him a major case Giraffe neck. Then she'd laugh.**

**Random Guy - See, this is why I like reviewers like you: You read my answers and, even if you say you disagree with them, you still say you accept them. I have no problem with you not liking them, I just want you to understand where I'm coming from. Anyway, whether you continue to read the story or not, thanks for the criticism. Always nice to meet someone who doesn't throw tantrums when they don't get their way.**

**Anon - So purposely portraying the bratty nobles as idiotic early in the story means I'm trolling now? Alright, don't let the door hit you on the way out. **

**DaggerDoom -Shifted to PM instead.  
**


	8. Lingering Darkness

**Random thing, but I gotta say it. Anybody else notice Halgekenia would make an awesome setting for a western RPG? Seriously, adding everything you basically gives you a world filled with fantastic creatures and a place rife with quests perfect for a powerful warrior/mage/thief who has no loyalty. There's even bird people! Bird people! And vampires that are actually more than just a slightly more annoying target.  
**

**Oh, and some of the early parts are copied from Baka-tsuki. **

**Alright, nothing else to say now. Let's just get started.**

* * *

Raziel looked around the town, wonder adorning his normally blank face.

It was so different from everything, so...diverse. To his left he could see parents laughing along with their children, passing by hawkers who shouted about their wares whether it be food, tools, clothing, or even paid special attention to the children: It was the first time he'd seen people so young. He couldn't even tell how old they were supposed to be. He thought his master would be the youngest person he would see.

He supposed the father and mother would be the one to defend them if something bad ever happened. Then again, given how populous the area was and how many armed guards roamed the streets, he had a feeling danger was somehow far away from this place.

It reminded him of the tales he'd heard of both Lost Izalith (or just Izalith, as the case may have been) and New Londo; a haven of progress with a deep and rich culture that was second only to the God's themselves. It was the folly of the God's that destroyed both of them: The Witch of Izalith attempted to copy the first flame, as Quelana told him, and ended up summoning demons to bear down on the city.

And Gwyn? He drowned the city of New Londo, not even letting a single man, woman, or child walk out of paranoia of the Darkwraiths. He was so deluded into thinking that all humans were expendable that he felt justified into letting an entire city drown in order to kill a select few that he probably could have fought off even if they did come after him.

Sure they tried to paint it as less horrible than it seemed, but it didn't change the fact that mountains of corpses were still there by the time they got back and even the their spirits could find no rest, forced to stay in the place they died and attacking any unlucky enough to wander into the drowned city. Even his designated sealers left. One for altruistic reasons, the other for not so altruistic reasons, and the last one (Ingward) continued to guard till his due had come.

Flames, he really needed to stop thinking about the God's. The God's were dead. Dead and long gone, and by his own hands no less. The only God left that earned his ire was Gwyndolin, and he was sure Kaathe and Frampt would deal with him like they did him. He almost felt a smidgen of pity for the snake legged God.

Almost.

To the right he could see couples walking hand in hand, showing their affection to each other in acceptable - and not so acceptable - capacities. Many of them held hands or leaned shoulders with one another; nothing wrong with that. He supposed it was feasible that they show affection - or at least he assumed it was affection; it was reminiscent of the tales Rhea told him - to one another however they pleased.

And then there were the not so feasible shows of affection. One man was in a daze, bumping into Raziel's shoulder and not even bothering to acknowledge the contact. Raziel supposed it had to with the fact that his left hand was currently...was it down the middle of her dress? Huh, he must've dropped something in her clothes or something. Either that or he somehow found cupping her chest to be appealing for some reason.

Others were somewhat more subtle, but his eyes could pick them up. Some alleys they passed had a pair - usually a man and a woman, though he could also see pairs of the same gender - hidden in nooks and crannies, obviously trying to do something involving their lips and removing their clothes. He didn't know or really care for that matter. What they did with their clothes was their business.

"Hmm, I could've sworn it was here," Louise mumbled to herself, tapping her chin impatiently. She knew for a fact that there was supposed to be a weapon and armor shop around here. somewhere.

"Where are we?" Raziel asked suddenly.

Louise nearly jumped at the sudden question. She still had to get used to the fact that his voice was healing and he could talk somewhat normally now, "Bourdonné Street, Tristain's widest avenue. The palace is straight ahead." She pointed at the towering castle the path led to. Raziel frowned slightly at the sight of the palace. Was that where this place's God's were held? He certainly hoped Gwyndolin was there. He wanted to catch up with his old friend.

Preferably with a giant sword cutting off all his legs and then crushing his face with Smough's hammer. Over and over and over again.

However, even in all his annoyance he didn't miss the nostalgic smile that his master held for just the briefest of seconds. Obviously she had memories there, but what they could possibly be he didn't know.

"So many people," Raziel opined, looking at all the different shops. Various signs adorned the doors; a particularly memorable one being an image of a frog with its tongue sticking out. Unfortunately, he couldn't read the shop's title due to his current illiteracy and-

Raziel blinked. He saw something in the side alley. He didn't know what it was, but it gave him a feeling of suspicion. Without bothering to ask for his master's permission, he began to walk towards the dark alley.

Louise grabbed his ear and pulled, "Hey, don't go wandering off to the alleyways. There are thieves and pickpockets here, and you're carrying my money in those pants of yours."

"Thieves?" That didn't sound good. Thieves had this uncanny ability to come out of doorways and slit him by the throat without him noticing. By the third time it happened he'd resorted to chucking prism stones and firebombs down every corner out of paranoia. It didn't work.

"Yes, thieves. And the weight of the coins will make it very hard for you to run. Your injuries also mark you as an easy target and you're unarmed, so I'm not sure how much you can do to fight back," Actually, she wanted to say that she thought he would rip a signpost out and use it as a spear, but she held back he tongue. He would do it if she suggested it.

These coins were heavy? Raziel grabbed the pouch from his pocket and shook it slightly. If they were supposed to be heavy then he certainly couldn't tell. He chalked it up to their different body strengths and moved on. To his master, even a shortsword must've weighed heavily.

It still amazed him that they used currency apart from souls here. Admittedly it shouldn't have come as a shock: Petrus, may his soul wander for eternity, had given him a copper coin and he sometimes found silver and gold coins on his journeys around Lordran. He had gotten so used to the energy based consumption that he forgot that they used regular currency outside Lordran.

"And don't think just because the bag is heavy that they'll be slowed down too," Louise continued, "Magic can make even the heaviest bag as light as a feather."

"Sorcerer thieves?" Raziel asked in slight disbelief, "Nobles rob other nobles?" As his master and Siesta told him, all mages in the Academy had nobility in their blood, similar to Rhea and Chester, by the magic in their blood. It was completely different from the way things were run in the Vinheim dragon school.

"You could say that," Why did he keep calling them sorcerers? "All nobles are mages, but not all mages are nobles. To be an aristocrat one needs magic in their blood, but its possible to have your title taken from you if you commit a deep enough offense. A noble can also drop his title willingly to become a criminal or mercenary, or for other reasons, then they are mage with no title."

"Like Logan," He remarked. Logan had dropped his status as Vinheim's top researcher and journeyed to Lordran simply because of his love for research.

Louise nodded absently, pointing at the signs they passed and marking off each of their uses so she could keep track of them. Eventually she came to a narrow road facing the left and she followed it, Raziel shadowing her closely.

Immediately a putrid stench assaulted both of their nostrils, obviously coming from the trash and other nasty things scattered haphazardly all over the small road. Louise nearly gagged at the awful aroma but Raziel showed no reaction to the stench. Really, as long as it wasn't a bunch of smoke and fire attacking his nose then he would have no problem.

"Right, now we have to follow the road forward and take the first right, then we should see the shop."

Raziel nodded and followed Louise, who was using her cloak to cover her nose and did her best to breath through her mouth. Nobles rarely ever came here, so the commoners running the area felt no need to make false pretenses.

"Ah, found it!" Louise visibly sighed in relief as she spotted the sword shaped sign hanging above the door. She quickly scrambled in, dragging her confused Familar behind her and closing the door with a loud clang.

Despite the bright sunlight outside, it was dark inside; the only source of light being a lamp hanging on the wall. The walls and shelves were cluttered with all kinds of weapons. Off to the side she could make out a detailed suit of knight armor, but everything else was either weapons of all sizes or empty spaces filled with dust and grime.

The owner of the shop, a gray haired man in his late years of adulthood smoking a pipe, looked up and gave Louise a suspicious stare. That is, until he saw the golden button of her cloak; the markings of a noble. Immediately suspicion was replaced by a fake smile and he stood up with energy unfitting of his age.

"My lady! My noble lady! All of my wares here are real and reasonably priced! There's nothing criminal here!" He chirped, repeating the same well-rehearsed speech he gave every noble customer that passed by here, "Are you buying for a friend or perhaps-"

"I'll be your customer," Louise interrupted, not in the mood for fake pleasantries.

"Oh, you are buying? That is odd," The man commented, "I've never heard of nobles buy swords before!" He said with fake zeal.

"Why is that?" She asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Well, priests wave sacred staffs, soldiers wave swords, and nobles wave wands. Isn't that the rule?"

Louise nodded. He had a point there, "To be more specific: I am buying it, but I will not be the one to use it. My Familiar will."

Raziel was too busy looking at all the weapons in the shop to pay attention to their conversation. He picked up each weapon carefully, examined it thoroughly, before placing it back where he found it with a disappointed sigh. They were decent, but none of them were even close to the level of strength and make his former weapons had. Even the Zweinhanders and Claymores seemed almost fragile in his hands.

Louise ignored him and continued, "I'm not very knowledgeable about swords, so please show me anything that is reasonable."

The shopkeeper nodded and walked into the backroom, cackling to himself, "Oh, this is too great! I can raise the prices so high with this." He muttered excitedly. Hurrying back to the noble customer, he returned with a longsword of about a mail in length. It was a very exquisitely decorated golden sword. It looked like one could swing it with just one hand. There was even a hand guard on the short handle.

"Impressive," Louise nodded, neutrally as possible,

The shopkeeper nodded vigorously with a wide smile, "Speaking of which, it seems that nobles like to let their servants bear swords lately. The last time any of them came to pick one from me, they picked this type of sword."

Louise supposed it made sense. To a noble, appearance was very important. Getting a sword that was not only both exquisite in appearance and powerful in strength was a given- Wait, did he say servants wielded swords now?

"Servants wield these types of sword now? Is that the trend?"

Another nod, "Of course. It seems there's been an increase in thievery lately and some of the lords are getting antsy. They've taken to arming their servants now in lieu of getting more guards."

"Thievery?" Who could steal from the nobility?

"Yes. Some mage thief that calls himself or herself something like 'Fouquet the Crumbling Dirt,' and I heard he or she stole a lot of treasures from the nobles. Those nobles are getting really rattled, so they're arming their servants with swords just in case."

Louise held no interests for thieves, so she chose to focus on the sword instead, "Compared to the sword he used before, this looks extremely fragile," She looked down at the blade, "My Familiar wielded a sword far larger than this last time."

The construct sword was larger than a longsword, mostly because it was made to be wielded by the bronze Valkyries. And yet he swung it around with one hand easily and even wielded a spear in tandem with it. She needed something bigger.

"I want something bigger and broader."

The shopkeeper looked at the frail young man suspiciously before looking back at Louise, "Madam, please forgive my bluntness - Sword and swordsman have compatibilities; just like men and women. If you want your Familiar to be able to use a sword effectively, then-"

"Didn't I state my preference?" Louise interrupted, annoyance seeping into her voice. The shopkeeper sighed and went back to the backroom, mumbling some obscenities under his breath. While he did want to get maximum profits for his weapons, he also wanted the customers to be able to actually use the weapons, if only to stop them from demanding refunds.

But if the girl wanted bigger and broader, then he'd give her bigger and broader.

"What about this one?" It was a splendid broadsword of around a mail and a half in length. The handle was made for two-handed wielding and was lavishly decorated with jewels of all kinds. The mirror-like golden blade reflected the light with an irresistible glow. Anyone could look at it and say it was a very sharp and broad blade. "This is the best thing I have. Rather than say it's for nobles, it's more like something nobles **w****ish** they can wear on their waists, but that's something reserved for very strong men. If not, wearing it on the back isn't half bad." He recited his sales pitch.

Raziel joined Louise and stared closely at the blade. While it was exquisite in design and looked to be very sharp, he had a feeling that it was mostly just appearances that the blade had going for it. While he could make no claim to being a blacksmith, he knew enough about weapons that he could discern their makes and effectiveness.

"How much?" Louise asked, confident she could buy it.

"Well… it's made by the famous Germanian alchemist Earl Arstor. It can cut through metal like butter because of the magic infused in it!" The Shopkeeper rattled on, "See this inscription here?" He proudly pointed at the words on the handle. "You can't get this cheaper anywhere else!"

"Hmph, I am a noble," She stated with barely constrained pride.

And that was his cue to blow her confidence out of the water, "It costs Three thousand new gold coins."

Louise visibly deflated at the price, "What?! You can buy a holiday home with a garden with that!" Louise yelled , shocked. Raziel, who was too busy examining the blade, ignored her protests.

"A famous sword is worth as much as a castle, my lady. A holiday home is quite cheap compared to this." The shopkeeper answered back.

"I brought a thousand new gold coins with me today, and I still need to buy him a suit of armor," Louise, being a noble, had little skill in bargaining, and made the taboo of giving away her wallet's contents. She would've had more than the amount she currently had if she was allowed to get a full refund of the unused medicine she ordered. Unfortunately, the most she could just was just under half of her money back.

The shopkeeper only waved his hand dismissively. "Come on, even standard broadswords cost at least 200 new gold coins." Whether he was telling the truth or not, neither Louise or Raziel knew. He was a salesman, after all.

Louise's face turned red. '_I didn't even know swords cost that much.'_

"Don't buy it," Louise and the older male turned to look at Raziel, who was holding the sword with both hands and examining it, "It's too fragile...and the material is weak," He frowned. While it looked nice, its strength and usefulness barely reached up to the swords even the Hollow's swung around. It was an ornamental decoration, nothing more.

"Weak!?" The shopkeeper cried indignantly, "I'll have you know that sword is-"

"In either case," Louise interrupted before the old man could ramble, "We can't buy it because we can't afford it. We need to get something that we can buy but will still allow us to buy a decent suit of armor."

Raziel nodded, putting the sword back on the counter, and then tilted his head to the side. He could hear laughter, "Kehehehehe," It sounded like it was coming from the pile of swords stuck in the corner. A moment passed before the laughter resounded again, even louder this time. Both Louise and the store owner heard it, the latter sighing in annoyance.

"Heh, what kind of shopkeeper are you? Can't even scam a noble girl and her sick servant. Getting sloppy in your old age there?"

Raziel and Louise turned to the source of the voice while the old man placed both hands on his face and groaned. He was sincerely hoping something like this wouldn't happen today. Business had been slow and he needed no customers complained.

"Why don't you look at yourself for a moment?" The voice goaded Raziel, "You? Wield _that_ sword? Don't make me laugh. At least you know a good sword and a piece of crap when you see one, but the fact is you're only built for using sticks and clubs! I mean look at you, you look like you're going to drop dead the second a gust of wind passes by!"

Raziel paid the insults no mind. He'd heard worse.

"And you, girly," It turned to Louise now, "How stupid do you have to be to not see he's scamming you? Even your servant could tell you were being sold a piece of utter garbage!"

"Sh-Shut up!" Louise yelled back, stamping her foot for emphasis.

"Oooh, the big bad noble's stomping her foot! That means you're serious now, right? Would you like me to pretend to be scared now or should I not bother?"

Raziel stalked forward, ignoring his master as she prepared to throw another barb at the mysterious voice, and walked towards the source of the voice, "Come out from where's you're hiding, coward!"

"Who are you calling a coward!? I'll have you know-"

Whatever he was about to say was drowned by the sounds of the sword pile collapsing as Raziel kicked. The voice came from inside the pile, and yet he saw no one there. What was going on? Was it someone using a chameleon spell to blend into the environment? He needed to see if any of the items were moving.

"Hah, you missed!" The voice taunted him, "Still can't see me? Look down!"

Raziel looked down and saw a sword lying next to his feet, away from the pile. It was the same length as that huge broadsword, though its blade was slightly less broad and was shaped more similarly to an Uchigatana. It was a thin longsword, although its surface was coated with rust, and saying it was well made to any degree would be a giant lie.

"Yeah, that's me you're nearly stepping on!"

The Shopkeeper finally had enough and yelled, "Hey Derf, stop insulting my customers and go back to sleep!"

"Customer? A customer that can't wield a sword?" 'Derf cackled, the sword's rusted handle shaking in tune with the laughter, "You've got to be kidding me! This shop's quality must've really gone down the drain if you're getting this desperate."

"Is-Is the sword talking? Is that a sentient sword?" Asked Louise, halfway between surprise and exasperation.

"That's right, lady. It's a sentient, magical, intelligent sword. I wonder what kind of mage could make a sword speak, but its got a rotten tongue, always arguing with my customers," He turned back to the sword, "Hey, Derf! Keep acting like that and I'll ask this noble here to melt you!"

"Sounds good to me! I'd like to see you try it! I'm kinda tired of this world. I'd love to be melted down!" Derf taunted back.

The old man scowled and shouted back, "Fine, then I'm melting you down! I'm tired of your nonsense!" The old man moved to grab the talking sword, but Raziel held up a hand to stop him.

"Wait," Raziel knelt down and grabbed the sword's hilt. Already he could tell this was no chameleon spell; the feeling of the sword in his hands was something that could not be replicated, "You are called "Derf'?"

"Wrong!" The sword answered, "My name is Lord Derflinger, remember it!"

Raziel nodded, "Lord Derflinger," He called the sword by its proper name.

Derflinger's handle shook up and down, but no words came out. Raziel began to worry before he realized that Derflinger was laughing, "Hahahaha, you actually did it! Nobody's ever really called me that before! I can tell this is going to be a great partnership!"

Raziel stood up and held the sword at length. The rust covered every inch of the blade, but his instinctual knowledge already told him that Derflinger was of extremely well make and use. It was the best weapon he'd seen in his entire time at the shop.

"So, you're user aren't you? Strange, you're not like the others that came before you. There's something...unnatural about you. I can't place my blade on it, but there's something that makes you different from everybody else."

"User?" Raziel asked.

"What, you don't know?" Derf questioned incredulously, "Now that that I'm getting a better feel, there's actually something wrong with the runes in your hand. There seems to be some kind of seal in place, blocking you from being able to use the full powers." Runes? He looked down at his left hand, at the runes. He remembered them glowing during his fight with the bronze Valkyrie's, but he ignored them since he was too caught up in the fighting.

"Hmm, I can remove the first block, but you might want to wait till you're somewhere more private for that. So why don't you buy me?" Derflinger suddenly changed the subject.

Raziel nodded silently and turned back to his confused master, "Master...can we buy this?"

Louise wanted to complain. The sword had insulted her and it was a rusty piece of crap, but something in her gut told her that it would help her to buy the old thing. That and she didn't really have enough money for anything else, Sighing, she turned back to the storekeeper and managed to ask, "How much is the talking sword?"

"Eh, 100 will do," He shrugged.

"That's pretty cheap," Not that she was complaining, but it seemed way too low given how expensive all his other weapons were.

"For that one? Hah, take it with you for cheap and just make sure it doesn't come back here." He waved a hand dismissively.

Nodding, Louise took her pouch from her Familiar and grabbed 100 gold coins, placing them on the counter. With a word of thanks from the couple and one last insult from the rusted sword, the two left the shop.

* * *

The lands of Halgekenia were known for their beautiful and varied geography. From the floating islands of Albion to the rich earth of Germania, the lands were undoubtedly blessed with great natural beauties.

Tristain was known for its deep and lush forests. An unmatched beauty that even the best paintings failed to replicate. Many believers attributed their lands beauty due to the favor of Founder Brimir, as did every other country proud of its beauty. The lush forests ensured that Tristain, despite its lack of standing army, was a vital country for trade and protected them from any would be invaders.

Unfortunately, what wasbeautiful and wondrous could also be used for dark purposes. Bandits and mercenaries were all too common in the lands, and Tristan's thick forests often meant that the authorities were often unable to catch them when they escaped deep enough in. It was common knowledge that many outlaws of all types made their homes in the forests. Rarely anyone ventured off the beaten path alone for fear of encountering them.

Right now, there was one woman who was doing exactly that.

Between the thick trees, a woman walked. Her features were covered by a heavy brown cloak and her footsteps didn't make a single sound; the obvious mark of a thief.

Her name was Foquet, her runic name was 'The Crumbling Dirt'. A well known thief even outside of Tristain, she'd robbed and taken from the highest nobles using the power of her earth magic. Right now she was forced to walk through the forest, ignoring every feeling in her gut telling her to turn back and take her chances elsewhere.

In her hands she held a letter sealed in a common envelope, with no indication of who it belonged to or where it came from. A common countermeasure when dealing with...untrustworthy assets like her. Though they tried to hide it, her mysterious benefactors - though she used that term loosely - had obviously considered her a valuable but ultimately expendable asset.

Just like they did everyone else.

She sighed, stopping in her tracks and ripping open the envelope again. Despite the large parchment inside, there were only a few words, "Get help. Follow the directions written on the parchment," She muttered under her breath, eyebrows crinkling in annoyance. They'd made it as cryptic as they could without compromising the instructions.

It was a safe countermeasure, she supposed. Every letter had the chance to be intercepted whether by chance or specific machinations, and writing down the minutiae of their plans on every order would have led to their downfall. She was a piece of the puzzle and she was given what little she needed to survive.

Along with the letter came a pouch of coins. 5000 new gold, better than many commoners and even some nobles could earn in years. It was an 'incentive' to coerce whoever she was supposed to ask for help. She had half a mind to spend the gold on herself; she had certain obligations to certain people, and it wasn't like she owed them loyalty or anything, given that she was a thief.

But of course, they had all planned for that. They knew her identity, had proof of her deeds, and they would spread them once they found her too much of a risk to continue using. It was for that reason alone that she, a well-known thief and mage, was working for them now. A 'representative' of theirs came to her earlier with an offer.

Work for them in order to earn riches and power beyond her wildest dreams, or spend her remaining life in a dungeon for the crimes she committed. She found the 'choice' to be an easy one to make.

A snap of the twig and a muffled curse behind her alerted her to what she already knew: Two people were following her. As an extra letter (which had long burned by now) told her, they were sending in a couple of recruits to tail her to the meeting place. The letter specified that they were two young nobles, dot class mages, who were capable of using fire and wind respectively.

The reason for them being there was simple. They wanted someone to keep tracks on her. They obviously didn't trust her and they needed someone to keep an eye on her.

It was also because, like her, they were expendable. She had a sneaking suspicion that the ones who sent them here didn't expect them to return; whether or not she stayed loyal was irrelevant. Who better to watch an expendable asset than another expendable asset? They lose nothing either way.

Foquet's lips twitched, a wry smile making its way to her face. The forests near the capital city were the thickest in all of Tristain and, even though it was still just approaching noon, only traces of sunlight managed to breach the thick foliage, giving the area an appearance of a forest at night. Foquet mused to herself that she would use the forests in the future when she needed it.

Another hour of walking passed before Fouquet saw the first signs of human presence: The distant light of a fire and the smell of burning meat. She'd found the camp she was looking for.

Her task was monumental. Steal into the vault in the Tristain Academy of Magic and take the most valuable item inside: The staff of destruction. One of the earlier letters, which she was also advised to burn after reading, mentioned that she also needed to find out how to use it before sending it to them, or else the job is considered a failure.

Unfortunately, the vault was stationed with guards 24/7 and various magical bindings made breaking in and out undetected near impossible. She would have to brute force her way in.

According to info she'd gleaned off of Professor Colbert - who was readily giving away the info since he never suspected her (she didn't know whether to laugh at his naivete or feel flattered that he considered her trustworthy) - enough force would break the vault's walls, but it was naturally impossible for even a square class mage unless all the guards were somehow absent.

And this is why she came here.

Stepping closer, she could finally see through the trees at the place beyond. It was an open field, surrounded by trees on all sides and even darker than the rest of the forest. No sunlight pierced through the large leaves overlooking the clearing and the only sign of it being populated, apart from the people themselves, was a singular large campfire in the center and a few tents. Easily collapsed and, if the need came, destroyed to cut of all trace of activity.

There weren't many people in the clearing; she could count at least 20 by one glance alone, but she was sure there were a much more stalking the forest somewhere. All of them were male, no surprise there, and wore leather and cloth armor of varying makes. The only thing that marked them as being in the same group were the dark color of their armors; various shades of black, gray, and brown.

_'Bandits,'_ Fouquet thought distastefully. She supposed it was hypocritical in a way. She was a thief, was she not? She held no moral superiority to them and she was certainly not their better.

But there was something in their eyes. A book she'd read long ago said 'The eyes are the window to the soul'. She considered it silly at first, but now she thought it might have had a point. When she saw into their eyes she could see who they were, what they were: They'd given in to their baser needs, they cared nothing about others lives, not even each others. She saw evil, the capacity to destroy, to dominate, to take what they wanted.

In a way, they were perfect for the job.

All eyes in the camp immediately turned to face her. They knew she was coming; a messenger from her benefactors had told them of her arrival and that she had a deal. It didn't stop the majority of them from staring at her. Or rather, the feminine body she concealed under their cloak. She was no fool. She knew what they saw her as, what they would have done if they could.

Unconsciously, she gripped the wand hidden under her cloak tighter. If they tried anything then she would kill them, objectives be damned. She wasn't going to die because of some males pent up desires. Turning her head back just briefly, she could no longer see the two noblemen following her. Most likely they had run off and left her behind.

Her eyes surveyed the camp once again before finding her target. With a calming breath, she stepped towards the center, the camp's inhabitant's gazes following her...except one.

At the center, sitting on a log, was a dark haired man, barely into his adulthood. Fouquet had to admit he was handsome: A lean but fit build, curly dark hair just reaching past his neck, a closely shaved stubble, and his olive skin marking him as either of Romalian or Germanian descent. The outfit he wore was nearly indistinguishable from the rest of his little group: Dark leather with a black cloak. Fouquet guessed it was so it would be hard to tell who the leader of the group was.

"Well, it appears we have a visitor," He looked up at her and flashed a charming smile. Fouquet knew better than to let down her guard; it was the smile of a snake and a traitor, albeit a charming one, "Come, sit down and let your feet rest. It must have taken a long time to journey here," His velvety voiced soothed.

Fouquet raised an eyebrow at the affable act, but she sat down on a log across from him. The light of the bonfire gave him an unsettling appearance despite his handsome features.

"There, is this not much better?" He asked, "I despite having to set up camp so far into the forest, but the authorities do not take kindly to our...activities well. Do you not agree, Miss... Oh, I do apologize, I did not catch your name."

He was asking for her name. She was advised not to trust him beforehand and not to get friendly with him on any means, "My name is Lucrezia," She gave her own charming smile. The name was the same as the main character of a play she saw when she was younger, "May I ask for your name as well?" She countered.

"I suppose it is proper manners," He leaned forward, the light of the fire casting another sinister gleam on his rugged face, "My name is Cesare Borgia, though you may call me Cesare. I understand it is the name of a famous Romalian conqueror, but I pay little attention to such things."

He was lying. The name was another character she'd seen in the same play; the older brother of the main character who's name she used. He had seen though her bluff and was taunting her.

"Well then, Cesare, can we get down to my reason for coming here?"

"Indeed," Cesare smiled, though it did nothing to soothe the thief's nerves, "The letter I received came from the same benefactor as yours, did it not? I wonder, how much do you know about them?"

"It is of no concern to me who he or she may be. I am offered a job in exchange for something I want, and I accepted. Were you not made the same offer?" Fouquet replied neutrally.

"It appears so," Cesare gave an amused shake of the head, "When I...questioned the messenger, he revealed to me that all he knew was that the orders came from 'His Eminence'. I wonder, did we somehow get entangled into the affairs of the church now? I thought they would have no need for rabble like us. Do you do this out of a loyalty to the papacy and the clergy?"

"How are you sure he was not lying?" Foquet challenged.

"Oh, I doubt that very much," He smirked, "Micheletto has a...way with convincing others to divulge all they know. He is a master of the technique as I recall," His face suddenly brightened and he called out, "Ah, Micheletto, just in time! Have you collected our guests?"

Fouquet knit her eyebrows in confusion before turning back to where Cesare was calling. What she saw turned her blood to ice.

A man stood, a mop of messy red hair and a beard to match, wearing leathers of brown colors. What scared her was what he held in his hands: On his left was a knife, serrated and dripping with fresh blood. But on his right was something scarier; one of the young men that followed her before, his face cut up with multiple knife wounds and his tunic drenched with his own blood.

"My apologies Cesare, but one of them proved...uncooperative. I had to release him from my hold," Micheletto replied softly, without emotion or feeling. Fouquet knew that the young man's partner was dead. She saw it in the way the torturer's lips smiled ever so slightly when he mentioned release. He was a sadist, but there was no hostility in him. He felt nothing when killing.

"No matter, I am sure you did your best," Cesare turned back to her, "Is this young man with you? I was very clear with my demands to your messenger earlier. I wanted one representative, not two. So the question is; which one of you is the person that was sent to meet me, and which one is an intruder? I advise you to answer carefully: We do not deal with intruders...lightly"

Fouquet felt her anger boil. He was enjoying this, he relished in seeing her discomfort because he already knew what she would answer.

The young man looked up, staring straight at her. Though his bloodied eyes she saw it: Fear and desperation. He didn't want to die, he wanted Fouquet to save him. He had gotten in over his head and he wanted a second chance. He'd seen death take his friend and he wanted to escape that fate, no matter what. Fouquet looked down at him, sympathy in her eyes.

She couldn't save him.

"I am afraid I do not know who this man is," His eyes widened as he realized the reality of his situation, "Please do not place the blame on me if your camp is easily spotted by curious nobles looking to play adventure."

Cesare smiled, "Very well," He nodded to Micheletto, "Deal with him."

The young man barely had time to scream before Micheletto dragged the knife from one side of his neck to another, exposing another torrent of blood to the earth. As his life faded from him, he tried to scream out curses and revenge, but the blood clogged his throat and eventually his eyes emptied, the life having drained out of them.

"Well, that was certainly entertaining."

Fouquet felt sick. She had seen a man die in front of her, and the worst part of it was that she claimed at least partial responsibility for them.

But she knew she couldn't blame herself fully. Her benefactors knew who they wanted her to hire, knew the methods they used, and they still sent them there for reasons unknown to her. Perhaps they were sons of a rival noble family, or perhaps they simply found death amusing, but either way they had sent these two knowing full well they would die if they came.

"Now, I am listening," Cesare leaned forward, arms clasped together in anticipation.

"Yes...here is the job," She shook herself internally and handed him the pouch of coins along with the letter that came with it, "Half of the details are inside along with your fee. If you agree to the terms of the arrangement, another letter will be sent to you at the designated dead drop along with more money should it be needed."

Cesare nodded, opening the sack and fishing out of the the new gold coins inside. They were genuine, so whoever was paying them for this little excursion had the backing of someone powerful behind them. Throwing the coin back inside, he picked up the letter next and read its contents, skimming through them quickly.

"Do you accept?" Fouquet asked after a moment of silence.

"This is a hefty job," Cesare placed the letter down and looked back at her, "You wish for me and my men to attack the academy of magic in the middle of their little Familiar festival?"

"That is correct," She nodded.

Silence suddenly engulfed the camp. Fouquet's arm reached inside her cloak warily in case of possible attack.

"Hahahahaha!" Cesare laughed, surprising the green haired woman, "I must say, this task you've given us is a unique one. Tell me, what exactly do you expect us to do once we attack? Should we kill all the students? Or is there a specific target you have in mind?"

And that was when she realized. They relished in the idea of doing the impossible. They were willing to risk their lives just to prove they could and still make it out alive. All around the camp she could already see excited murmurs coming from most of the members. They wanted to do this.

"I will break into the Vault, and the princess' visit for the Familiar show means that many of the guards will be assigned to her. However, that does not mean the vault will be unguarded."

"Ah, so we are to serve as distractions then?" Fouquet nodded, "I see. Well, it appears that we have come to an agreement then. We distract the guards and anyone attending this little gathering while you steal whatever it is our client wants."

Fouquet nodded, forcing herself to smile. The stone had been set and there was no turning back now.

* * *

"Return my memory?"

"That's right, partner!" Derflinger - or Lord Derflinger, as he preferred to be called - cackled as both Louise and Raziel gave him unsure looks. The three were back in Louise's room now, having finished their shopping trip and managing to buy Raziel a decent suit of armor.

Raziel looked down at his armor in uncertainty. Louise had grossly underestimated the full cost of a suit of armor for a knight, and so they had to compromise.

The armor was mostly made of a dark blue cloth, the design reminiscent of the armors of the thieves from the Undead burg. However, underneath the cloth he could feel the unmistakable texture of a light chainmail, ensuring that he would given at least some minor protection from slashes and piercings. The most protective part of the set, however, was the metallic gauntlet that adorned his right arm.

It was an arm-guard, the shopkeeper said. It protected the warriors sword hand from attacks while allowing them to retain their speed and versatility due to its light weight. It also had, in addition to the cloth already doing so, the added benefit of covering the heavy burn he received on his right arm. The only other thing of note were the boots, which were made of a black leather for easy movement. The only thing that indicated that he was still injured were the bandages around his face and neck.

Raziel thought he looked stupid.

"Hey sword, what are you talking about?" Louise asked from her bed, throwing an irritated glance at both Derflinger and Raziel, who were both sitting on the floor.

"Wow, I really got a couple of winners here!" Derflinger mumbled sarcastically, "Listen, girly, your Familiar's not in full power. Heck, he's not even in half power, and that's really embarrassing!"

Louise gave an irritated sigh, but she stood up from her bed anyway. If she wanted to understand more about her Familiar and why exactly she'd summoned him then she needed to use any info she could find.

Even if it came from stupid talking swords.

"Alright, now the runes in his hands have 7 letters. You see them?" Raziel removed his left glove and stuck his hand out to his master. Louise nodded after a quick countdown, "Right, so user's are supposed to be able to use all the runes from the start of it. That's one of the perks for being chosen," Raziel flinched. Did he have to use that word? "But, there's something different about partner here."

"What do you mean?" Louise asked.

"Its better if I show. Hey partner, unsheathe me will you?"

Raziel nodded and took the sword out of the scabbard with some difficulty. The rust on the blade made it somewhat difficult to pull him from out of his sheath, "What now-" He was interrupted by a sudden burst of light coming from his left hand. The two of them looked down curiously at his hand and saw the runes glowing.

All one of them.

"Hey, why are only one of the runes glowing?" Louise asked Derf incredulously, "All of them were glowing when he fought Guiche! I know they did!"

"That's the problem, see? User's are supposed to be able use the runes to their full power from the start. But partner here? He only gets a slight boost because he's only using one out of the seven."

"Do you know the reason?" Raziel moved his left hand around and placed it against the light of the window. Derf was right; only one out of the 7 symbols were glowing.

"I dunno, something like this has never happened before. Usually the runes stay with the user till death, then they move on to the next one."

"Death..." Louise flinched, "Uh...hey, sword. Yesterday my Familiar got into a fight with someone and he got...stabbed through," She hated remembering that, "It looked like he died there, but the runes started glowing and he got back up. Could that be the problem."

"Nah, that's a normal part of the runes purpose," Derf replied, "When the user is near death the runes can activate so long as he or she has a weapon handy. Its so the user can keep fighting at their limit even when their bodies are failing. If he really did die or his heart stopped beating at any point, then the runes would jsut disappear. I've never seen a case of them being partial before."

Louise sighed. Of course she had to get a Familiar that was crippled in the only thing he could do, "Can you tell what's wrong with him?"

"I dunno. It feels like...he's floating between life and death, if that makes any sense to you, girly. There's something that's blocking the runes from being used to their full power, disregarding when he first used it."

Raziel stayed silent, content to ponder his weapon and master's words. Floating between life and death? How poetic.

"Well can you fix it?" Louise asked.

"Mmmph, I can fix part of it. There's something blocking the second rune, a traumatic memory, but I think I can unlock it - don't ask me how, I don't know myself." Derf interrupted before she could fire off her question, "After that, though, you're going to have to figure out how to unlock the other 5 on your own. There's nothing I can do beyond this."

"How vivid will the memory be?"

"Not very vivid," Derf answered her truthfully, "Since I'm forcing the memory to come out, partner won't be able to see it too clearly. Still, once it plays out, the second rune should unlock. So what do you say, partner? Ready to scar yourself?"

"Do it," Raziel nodded. Maybe it would allow him to finally make sense of what was happening around him.

* * *

**The pain across his back was unbearable. Feebly he tried to move his arms, only to realize he was being restrained.**

**He looked up, nearly blinded by the intense light of the sun. On his left and right he could see two armored figures, each one holding into one of his arms. Again he tried to feebly move his limbs, and again it was met with no success. He was trapped.**

**Ahead of him he could see a figure, his features obscured by the sun and shadows. All he could make out was that he was male and his long white hair, everything else was a blur.**

**The figure knelt down, observing the edge of the cliff sternly, before turning back and walking past him on the opposite direction. He tried in vain to look up, to even catch a glimpse of the figure's visage, but the sun's bright light continued to blind him.**

**The armored figures dragged him forward again, the cold rocks scratching against the light armor he wore. They stopped as they reached the edge of the cliff, turning back to the figure for the command.**

**He turned back to look at him quickly before facing the opposite direction again, "...Cast him in!"**

**An instinctive fear had gripped him and he struggled harder against the figures, but it was all in vain. He was cast over the edge of the cliff, the air buffeting his limp body in its cold embrace. He looked down and saw what awaited him; a dark vortex of unimaginable power, its true nature unfathomable to him.**

**He screamed.  
**

**Tumbling, burning in white-hot fire, he plunged into the depths of the abyss. Unspeakable pain, relentless agony. Time ceased to exist, only this torture, and a deepening hatred for the hypocrisy that damned him to this hell. This eternal torment.**

**An eternity passed, and his torment receded. Bringing him back from the precipice of madness.**

**He stood up, looking around the inky darkness all around him. All he had on his body were the decaying pieces of cloth adorning his arms and legs. His skin stomach had receded, turning a sickly shade of dark blue. He tried to scream, but found that he couldn't; his lower jaw had been destroyed, rotted off just like his stomach.  
**

**The descent had destroyed him...and yet, he lived.**

**Around his shoulder, a brown shoulder cape with an intricate design hung limply. It was the only remained of his past life.**

**He raised the cape, though it was more of a scarf now, and raised it up to eye level. Suddenly the cape circled around him, blocking his missing lower jaw and covering his entire upper torso. He tried to remove it, but it had fashioned itself around his body. It was part of him now.**

**As he looked at the void around him, there was only one thought that dominated his mind: Revenge.**

* * *

"Hey, partner you alright!"

Raziel awoke with a start, taking deep gulps of air like his life defended on it. He was lying down on his master's bed, the girl herself looking at him with a mixture of worry and irritation.

"What happened?" Raziel managed to breath out.

"You collapsed after the stupid sword did his trick." Louise informed him.

Collapsed? So that was a dream. The pain felt so real, it was like he'd been dragged into the Kiln once again. He looked down at his left hand; it was pale, no longer the sickly blue in his dreams. He felt around his lower jaw and gave a relieved sigh. It was still there.

"So, what did you remember? Anything that explains where you came from?" Louise asked, somewhat anxiously.

"No..." He shook his head sadly. He didn't understand a thing that just happened. Was that him who was thrown off the cliff? Was that how he became an undead? He didn't understand. The markings on the cape were those of an aristocrat or someone of great importance. Why did he have that on him?

"Did it work?" His master asked. He already understood what she meant. He stuck out his hand to his master again and saw the results: Two of the Seven runes now glowed, meaning only five were left missing.

"Hmm, at least it worked. That stupid sword is good for something at least." She sighed.

"Who are you calling stupid, pinky!" Derf rebounded at her in irritation.

Raziel tuned out again as the arguments between the two started full force one again. There was only one thing on his mind.

Who was it exactly that threw him to his torment?

* * *

**Before anybody assumes: NO, THIS IS NOT A CROSSOVER BETWEEN LEGACY OF KAIN AND ZERO NO TSUKAIMA. If it was, I would've placed it in the Legacy of Kain crossovers. I just based it on the Soul Reaver intro because I liked the narration...and the voice of the narrator is epicness in raw form. There's a different story to why he has that memory.**

**So yes, I just based it off of the Soul Reaver intro, and I'm surprised some of you actually know what it is:) Good to know the fans haven't died out.**

**Well, no questions that I can answer that won't be answered soon anyway, so lets just leave it at that. Hopefully this chapter is good.**


	9. Preparations

**Well, you know the drill by now. All answers to questions will be on the end of the chapter and if the question has already been answered/is too spoilerific/will be answered by the chapter or coming chapters anyway, then I won't bother answering them.**

**Oh, and I gotta ask: Where the fuck do all the Familiar's go later? After a while the Familiar's just up and disappear, which is especially jarring since they feature prominently in the early chapters. Seriously, the only Familiar left later on is Sylphid; every other Familiar gets put on a bus and disappears from the plot, even when their help would've been greatly appreciated.**

**And why do only a select few seem to have them in the first place? None of the teachers are shown to have them and Henrietta, the soon to be monarch of Tristain, is oddly missing one despite the ritual being some kind of mark for honor. Do the Familiar's just disappear after a while because their lifespans run out or what? It seems really odd.**

**This is even lampshaded by the anime opening. Each mage has a portrait of their Familiar behind him, but Henrietta gets a portrait of Wales...yeah. Nice fanon I suppose. Siesta's portrait is also her in a sailor uniform, but since she's not a mage I let that go.**

**Lastly, re-reading Volume's 1 and 2, some of the character's seem really...odd. Colbert seems way more of a goofball and even has no qualms flirting with and asking out Fouquet on a date, despite the age gap of about 20 years. Discounting Kirche's attraction to him later, he's also shown to frequently lament being dateless and unmarried, even to Saito who he barely knew at the time. Afterwards he also drops this habit.  
**

**Henrietta is the weirdest one here, though. In her first chapter she comes off as a somewhat mean-spirited and manipulative drama queen. She insults Cardinal Mazarin right to his face when he's lecturing her, which is a stark contrast to their interactions later where they seem to be close as family, and the way she asks Louise for helps honestly looks like she's trying to manipulate her. Look at this line:**

**"Impossible! It's impossible, Louise! How could I be so terrible? It's all confusing! When I think about it, I couldn't ask you to do such a dangerous thing as to go to Albion while this conflict between the nobles and the royalists is unfolding!"  
**

**So she doesn't want Louise to do it...and yet she specifically says what she wants Louise to not do? Louise had no idea Henrietta wanted before she spouted that sentence, so it seems like she was baiting Louise to accept it. Beforehand she even loudly laments how she's doomed and dramatically flops to the floor, which looks really odd considering how subdued and formal she is even in personal company later on. **

**I dunno if this is character development since they simply drop these habits the next time they appear, or if its just character exaggeration from the author. What do you guys think? **

**P.S. I went back to some a couple of the earlier chapters and removed the responses to Random Reader and DaggerDoom. From now on, all long responses will be done by PM:) And, in case anybody missed this from the last chapter: "No, this is not a crossover with Legacy of Kain. I just based the scene off of the Soul Reaver intro".  
**

**Anyhow, sorry for the rant. Let's start!**

* * *

How did he keep getting into these situations?

Raziel sighed, head bobbing left and right as his salamander friend dragged him by the collar to God's knows where. Already he could smell the distinct odor of burning cloth and flinched. Creature's made out of fire had this uncanny biology. Their internals were often fiery hot, regardless of whether their externals were under control. So while the Salamander was room temperature in everything else, his mouth felt as hot as the center of a flame.

With nothing better to do, he started thinking about how he got here.

He was staying out of his master's room as always, exploring the campus like he usually did in his nighttime. Given how early his master slept - provided she wasn't reading up on her lessons - he usually had over 8 hours to explore the campus or do whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, his unusual exploratory hours meant that he almost never met anyone, which was particularly annoying when he wanted to see Siesta.

Sleep always tried to come for him, but he never let it take him. He'd figured out pretty fast that the trigger for those debilitating flashes of memory back to his past adventures, and the end result of those flashbacks tended to manifest in extreme headaches that left him wanting to puke; which was of course impossible since the gag reflex in his body didn't work anymore.

And so he left his master's room every night, walking around the large campus in order to stave off sleep. At times he would practice with Derflinger (assuming the sword wasn't asleep) or do his master's laundry; with Siesta's help, of course. He still didn't get how to fold underwear and he was really grateful Siesta helped him despite having no reason to do so.

But tonight was an odd case. In the middle of his daily explorations he'd found Flame, the salamander who had taken a liking to him, following him from a distance. Since he'd decided by now that he wasn't going to get attacked, he continued his exploration, the silent salamander trailing behind him like a shadow. He actually found it kind of relaxing, in a way. It felt nice to know he wasn't alone.

Or at least that's what he thought before Flame tackled him to the floor and started dragging him by the collar.

Raziel sighed, more out of annoyance than anything. He could've struggled really, or he could've attacked Flame: Even with his bare hands he probably could have seriously injured and even killed the giant fire lizard. But, a part of him grew curious as to where he was being led - or dragged, which would be way more appropriate. Laurentius chided him at times for his curiousness and willingness to place himself in danger for them, but he never let it bother him. If he blindly followed orders and everything he was told then things would have ended quite differently; both here and in Lordran.

"Where are you taking me?" He asked him. Flame gave a small grunt, which caused the cloth around his collar to burn even more, but continued to drag him. Raziel understood however. "Wait and See"

Feeling his eyes glaze over from exhaustion, he thought back to earlier today. It would keep his mind occupied at least.

* * *

It had been six days since he'd recovered part of his memory. After recovering a part of his memory, life for both him and his master slowed to an utter crawl. Derflinger was true to his word: He couldn't help them unlock any more of the seals on the runes, and so the two of them agreed it would be solved at another time. Life had pretty much turned to normal after that; for a given degree of normal, anyway.

Classed continued for Louise, which meant she and Raziel had to work on a fixed schedule. Raziel would be the first to awaken - or rather, he didn't go to sleep - and woke Louise up before the sun's first light, as instructed. Afterwards he would dress her, though there were times she preferred to do it herself, and they would make their way into the Alviss dining hall, trying to avoid any crowds that they would pass.

After the incident with Guiche and her Familiar, no one pointed fingers at her or called her Zero, or at least not with her in hearing distance. She was sure her peers were still calling her worthless. Now they just didn't do it for fear of getting choked by her now armored Familiar and his rude piece of crap- I mean, talking sword.

While she ate, Raziel left her side, preferring to either leave the hall altogether and lie in the fields or look for Siesta and help her with her duties. Louise had to admit that seeing some of her snobbier classmates choke on their food when he arrived with a tray to their table to be extremely gratifying. They probably thought he was going to use the tray as a projectile weapon or something.

As all this was going on, she had never seen him actually eat any of the food he handled on a daily basis. Sure she saw him sniff the breads or soups on the tray once or twice, but he always shook his head and placed it back. She mostly assumed the maid was feeding him when she wasn't looking out of gratitude but, given that she seemed to always insist he eat and he always refused, it seemed kind of unlikely.

Normally she would've been more worried. Her Familiar was at least human in appearance if nothing else, and yet he never slept or ingested any food since he'd been summoned last week. At times he could hear him mutter about stomach aches or saw his eyelids drooping from exhaustion from time to time, but whenever she took note of it he always seemed to have no problem saying it was a minor thing.

Classes were the same as the first day. He would stay outside with some of the larger Familiar's while she did her best in class, which was helped greatly by the reduced amount of heckling she got from her peers. Kirche still teased her relentlessly, but she didn't let that bother her. The Germanian flirt was a sworn rival of the Valliere family and she would've found it more worrisome if she didn't constantly try to make her life a living hell. A Zerbst being nice to her was a harbinger of the end times.

It was only after 6 constant days of this did she finally remember another reason for going into town: The Familiar's Day. In the bad mood she'd gotten into because of him trying to cut off Sylphid's tail, she nearly forgot the presentation. A couple of weeks after the Familiar summoning, the Mages were required to show in front of both the students and teachers their Familiar's skills.

Normally the range of these tests extended to the Familiar itself. Small Familiar's like mice and frogs simply had to squeak or go somewhere on command while larger Familiar's like dragons, wolves, and various other creatures had to perform extraordinary feats. Technically walking up the stage and introducing one's Familiar was enough, but there was an unspoken agreement that such a display was pathetic, even among the teachers.

And so, one day Raziel found himself sitting with his master at a field on the back of the school. Or rather, he sat while Louise paced around and mumbled what he assumed was a curse in an ancient language. The way she waved her small fists in the air reminded him of the chained prisoners mumbling abyss magic back in the depths of the Oolacile prison.

"Hey, what's wrong girly? Working on a plan for your forbidden romance with partner here?" Derf mocked, rising up from his scabbard. Raziel had removed him from his back and placed him in a way that he was leaning across the tree. Derf said it was more relaxing than being strung straight out across his back.

Louise response was quick, "Shut up, stupid sword!" She whirled around and, with the accuracy of a trained archer, kicked the talking sword right at his laughing hilt. With an "Ow" and a muttered curse, Derf slid back onto his sheath.

"Master, what do you require?" Raziel ignored the odd couple's arguing, "I have done all the laundry for the week and have practiced in case of attack. Is there something I have done wrong?" He asked warily. He really didn't want to be sent back to the kiln because he made her mad. Sure she wasn't the nicest person he'd met, but that didn't change the fact that her yelling was a thousand times preferable to his eternal torment.

Besides, he'd Hollow out sooner or later, so the servant for life thing really didn't matter to him much. While he did admit that this place was practically a paradise compared to Lordran, it didn't change the fact that he had no place here other than this loose contract. He was honestly surprised that he hadn't Hollowed out at this point. Still, better make do while it lasted.

Louise sighed, "No, this is about something else," Raziel raised an eyebrow expectantly, "As you've no doubt noticed, the student's are practicing with their Familiar's around the field."

Actually, no he didn't notice at all. Now that he paid attention however, he could see a few of the students around the field with their Familiar's. The redhead Kirche with his friend Flame were practicing making precise shapes with fire while she could see a fat blond boy directing a small owl (he'd learned the name from Derf) through some hoops. He could even see his target- Flames, he meant the dragon Familiar, circling the air and doing a few acrobatic maneuvers. Other students with their Familiar's also tried to do tricks or various other performances, but he didn't find them all that interesting.

"Right, well in a few days it'll be The Familiar's Day," He titled his head to the side in confusion. Louise sighed, "It means every Mage who summoned a Familiar has to put on a performance in front of both the teachers and their other students. Usually we show what the Familiar is capable of and try to entertain the crowd. It's also no unusual to get visits from outside nobles during days like this."

"So it's a glorified pet show then?" Derf interrupted with a mad cackle. Louise threw him another glare and raised her wand, chanting the spell for fireball under her breath. Derf gave another muffled curse and slunk back into the scabbard.

"This year is more special than the previous ones however," Louise started, a hint of excitement seeping into her voice, "According to what Mr. Colbert taught us, Princess Henrietta is coming this year along with some of the other nobility!" She nearly yelled out before recomposing herself. Raziel nodded blankly at the excited announcement, though he flinched slightly when he heard the word princess.

Call him immature, but he hated hearing the word. Whenever he heard it he remembered Gwyndolin and Gwynevere, the two biggest spoiled brats of Anor Londo. Oh, how he wished he could see Gwynevere now. He would bet a thousand prism stones that the snake God didn't expect him to ever get out. If he ever got a chance to pummel the cross-dresser into slimy paste, he could die without regrets...well, if Kaathe and Frampt were added in then all the better. But he would settle for either.

"So who else is coming to this little show?" Derf once again spoke up.

Louise scowled at him, but she answered his question anyway, "Other than Princess Henrietta, the Griffin corps, her personal guards, will also make an appearance. I've also heard that the acting monarch Cardinal Mazarin and the Imperial messenger Count Mott might show up, but that's mostly rumors and hearsay. Really, why does it matter? The princess is going, and that's all that you should care about."

Okay, whoever this princess was, it was obvious his master adored her to a significant degree. He certainly couldn't imagine why. Princesses were spoiled brats who did nothing but lounge around in chair's while their knights did all the work. They also had no problem leaving their assigned job to take care of Humanity and go running off with Foreign God's, leaving their followers to be experimented on by an insane blind dragon.

God of Fertility his ass...

"The reason we're having this conversation now should be obvious: We need to think of what you'll do for the performance coming up." Louise grit her teeth when she saw her Familiar's continued bored expression, "Hey, this is serious! Almost nobody believes you're my Familiar, so we need to find a way not to embarrass ourselves. I don't want a repeat of what happened with Guiche."

"I could make a speech, if master desires it." Raziel commented flatly, looking up at the sky above. It still amazed him how entranced he got just staring up at the blue sky and puffy clouds above. It felt like he could lose himself in them; so bright and pleasing to the eyes.

Louise gave an annoyed sigh and threw him an irritated glare. Ever since he'd gotten that stupid piece of crap from the weaponsmith he'd started being more and more disrespectful of her, at least in the verbal sense. He still did any task she gave him efficiently and rarely did he complain or make any notion that he would disobey her. Still, a Familiar mouthing off to his master was a bad show.

But really, what could she do? There was absolutely nothing she could do to punish him even if she wanted to. She couldn't deny him meals because he never ate and she couldn't kick him out of the room because he left anyway once she fell asleep. She could whip him if she wanted, but even she was not cruel enough to whip someone summoning full body burns and was still healing.

She hated to say it, but maybe it would have been better if she summoned a Human Familiar to begin with. Whatever he was, he was certainly no ordinary human being. She would've been scared if not for the fact that he honestly seemed mentally challenged.

His throat was practically healed by now, though due to his new-found rudeness she rarely considered it a good thing. His flat and airy affect when talking did little to help accurately gauge his emotions whenever he spoke to her. Guiche talked in a typical annoying way, Kirche had this flirty or energetic touch to hers, and even Tabitha managed to show annoyance and tiredness. This meant she could see how they felt when talking. He was simply...blank. She could never read or gauge what exactly he felt or if he was being sincere in his words, so she had to take his words at face value and guess when he was being ironic.

"Yes, I'm sure the teachers would love to listen to a speech between the wolf howling and owl acrobatics," Louise deadpanned, "No, we need to show them something that you can do that no one else could. You have any ideas?" Normally she wouldn't bother asking for his opinion, but she was completely at a loss here. The only thing she could think of was him not needing sleep or food, but there was no way to prove that without extending the show for a week.

Raziel looked down for a moment in deep thought before an idea came to him, "Could I perhaps stab myself as a show of-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before Louise kicked him in the stomach. Hard, "Are you an idiot!?" Raziel barely even flinched as his master retracted her foot and pointed an accusing finger at him, "You may think you're immortal because you survived Guiche's attack, but that doesn't mean its true. I don't want a repeat of what happened last time, got it!"

Raziel nodded, ignoring the slight pain in his stomach. Louise barely had reservations of attacking him like that whenever he made her mad - which was exceedingly rare - because she knew for a fact that he barely felt or reacted to it whatsoever. Hey, just because she didn't want to whip him didn't mean she had no way of disciplining him if he got too stupid.

"Okay, let's start from the beginning," She suggested, "The first thing we have to do is give you a proper name. I know I call you Familiar, but we need something to-"

"Raziel," Raziel spoke out without thinking. Louise looked at him in confusion, urging him to elaborate, "Some...memories," He started off awkwardly, "Seem to indicate that it was my name in the past. Or at least, that it was what people called me..." He trailed off awkwardly. Truthfully, no one called him by that name at all. His past self, who he still didn't relate to very well, simply took to calling himself that way when Gough suggested it.

It wasn't even much of a name to begin with. If what Gough said was accurate, then it was just the Giant's way of saying Undead, which meant he was still going by a moniker or designation rather than a title. He found it kind of irritating that he couldn't remember anything before the Asylum. A name would have at least given him a higher sense of self.

"Hmm~" Louise cupped her chin and narrowed her eyes at his answer, "Do you identify with the name?' She asked after a long while. Just because he was called that before didn't mean that it would be accurate to call him that now; or at least, that's how Louise saw it. She couldn't really imagine how one could live their life without knowing their true name. To an aristocrat, name and honor were everything.

Raziel raised another eyebrow, an action he preferred to voicing curiosity verbally, and nodded. In all honesty, he really didn't. Sure he seemed to identify with it eagerly in the past, but he felt very little in relation to the figure he saw in his dreams. His years spent in the Kiln had changed him too much...or maybe he was simply thinking about it too much.

In either case, going by the name would be way more convenient for the both of them.

"Alright, so that's one part done," She sighed, "The next part is the most important one: The demonstration. We need to show something that you can do that- So help me if you suggest stabbing yourself again I will whip you!" She snapped at him before he could speak up.

Raziel mumbled something to himself, but kept quiet all the same. Really, apart from showing his sword skills, he didn't have much that the average determined person could do. Well, he could handle situations much more calmly and rationally than even veteran soldiers could, but again there was no way of showing that unless a giant monster just happened to attack the school. Being Undead was the only thing that saved him from dying permanently over and over and over again.

He would've suggested Pyromancy, but there were two reasons against it: The first being that he still couldn't use it very well and the second being Sorcerer's natural disdain for it. Pyromancy was considered chaos magic, and so many Sorcerer's advocated the banning and ostracizing of all users. It was one of the reasons Laurentius considered being Undead to be an actual improvement over being alive.

"Oh, having trouble with planning, Valliere?"

Louise turned to the source of the voice and immediately voiced her displeasure, "What do you want, Zerbst? Can't you see I'm busy?" She glared at the busty redhead.

Kirche smiled and waved off her concerns, "Aww, and here I thought about helping you and your sweet Familiar here with your plans for the Familiar's Day. Let me guess: No idea what you can do for the presentation?"

_'Sweet Familiar?'_ Louise thought, eyes narrowing at her Germanian rival. No doubt she planned to steal away her Familiar from her. After all, it was the only thing their fake noble family always did; steal from their betters like her family. While she couldn't say she was particularly attached to him, having her Familiar stolen from her would be an insult to her pride as a noble.

That and she couldn't deny that, should she ever need protection, he seemed capable enough for it. Especially now that he had a sword (annoying as it may have been) and a decent suit of armor.

Raziel was content to ignore their conversation - like he usually did - and contented himself with petting Flame across his scaly head, "Kyuru kyuru," The salamander grunted, biting at the sleeve of his left arm. It was quite obvious that the salamander wanted to see his burn scars again. Due to his new armor and the (stupid) arm-guard the only bandages that could still be seen were the ones on his head and left hand. He looked almost normal.

"Not today, sorry," He smiled at the Familiar. He hadn't changed bandages since that night with Siesta, so he really wasn't sure how mangled his body was now. And since he'd just gotten used to how tight they were on his arms, he really wasn't keen on removing them again. Siesta would insist she re-do them and he didn't know how much more of that he could take.

"Kyuru kyuru," He could've sworn Flame frowned at his refusal.

"What I and my Familiar are doing is none of your business, Zerbst," He heard Louise start, "Or rather, shouldn't you worry about yourself more? I'm not sure if an overgrown lizard is really capable of doing much to impress the nobility attending," She bluffed. In all honesty, she would've loved to have a Salamander for a Familiar. They were one of the strongest fire based creatures next to the dragons.

Kirche could immediately see through her fake bravado, "Oh? Then I wish you luck on your presentation, Valliere. I hope you don't embarrass yourself in front of the princess. I heard she's going to attend and it would be horrible if you embarrassed yourself in front of royalty, Zero~." She drew out the name.

With a flip of her hair, Kirche gave one last smile at the two of them and left, whistling for Flame to follow her. He gave Raziel one last glance before turning to follow his master, tail swishing in annoyance. Evidently he'd gotten annoyed at not being given his request.

It was only after they left the field did Louise allow her reaction to show, "Ohhh, that Zerbst!" She stamped her feet on the ground in frustration, "I hate her! I hate her! I hate her! She's always so smug and acts so superior to me!" She ranted, ignoring Raziel's quizzical tilt. They seemed to get along really well, all things considered. He'd seen hate, he'd felt hate. And what his master felt wasn't hate.

Hate was when you wanted to destroy someone utterly. Where compassion, mercy, and other trivial concepts took a lower priority compared to the anger you felt at something or someone. He felt hatred for Lautrec, he felt hatred for Petrus, he felt hatred for Gwyndolin and his serpent manipulators. What Louise felt wasn't hate, at least not yet.

"Her and her entire family are a bunch of thieves!" She ranted again. Thankfully everyone in the field was already gone, save for Tabitha circling overhead, "They stole the lover of my great grandfather and my grandfather after him! Spreading rumors about him being impotent and even going as far as to spread horrible commissioned paintings made by cheap painters!"

"Hmm..." He began to look at the sky again; an action that signified he either wasn't listening or didn't care about the topic. Hmm, Siesta said that she would end work soon, maybe he could see her after this.

Unfortunately, Louise was too far gone to care, "And now she dares insinuate that I'll make an embarrassment of myself in front of the princess!" Didn't she say royalty and not just princess? Or at least, that's what he heard, "To think she would dare say I would do such a thing in front of my childhood-" Louise stopped, lips pursing in annoyance as she remembered she was in an open field.

What she was about to say was childhood friend. She felt like slapping herself for being so arrogant. Yes, she and Princess Henrietta were childhood friends in the past, but that was all it was. The princess had no doubt forgotten her by now, as Louise expected her to. The last time they spoke was when she needed a favor from the pinkette to act as a decoy for her. That was 3 years ago, and no doubt the passage of time had changed their relationship.

"Childhood?" Raziel parroted her.

"It's nothing..." The frown on her face indicated otherwise, but he wouldn't pry on it, "It doesn't matter. In either case, we still have to think about what we're going to do for the demonstration."

"Having a little trouble, Valliere?" A snobby voice interrupted. Louise flinched at the greeting, though less so than when Kirche did it. There was only one person who could sound that annoying without even trying.

Guiche made his way towards them, arms folded behind him like a general overlooking his troops. Wearing the same frilly uniform and impractical pants as always, Louise could almost find it hard to believe that he was nearly killed just a week prior. The bruises around his neck, which were the only thing that marked him as being hurt, had already healed by now either through the passage of time or, as was more likely, water magic.

Based on the light scowl adorning his handsome face, it was quite obvious he wasn't happy. He had been beaten by a commoner; a man who had no magic or nobility in his blood. Just as embarrassing was the fact that his womanizing ways were exposed to his peers, in addition to having his reputation sullied by being defeated. The other boys had made fun of him in class and girls whispered behind his back, calling him a shameless defiler who tried and failed to pin his crimes on someone else.

Of course they completely ignored that they were perfectly fine with it till he was getting his arse beaten by a serving tray. Nobility, wasn't it so wonderful?

The only saving grace of the entire thing was the fact that his family hadn't gotten involved. As Old Osmond said, neither the Valliere or Gramont families were told of what happened that day, meaning that Guiche had managed to just barely escape publicly humiliating his entire family throughout the nobility in Tristain. Louise guessed that if the entire incident was exposed then he would've been disowned on the spot by his father.

Montmorency still refused to talk to him; a far cry from her worried behavior when Raziel nearly impaled him. Once the adrenaline of the situation wore off, she remembered that he was still a womanizer who lied and promptly slapped him in the face (again) and left, ignoring his pleas. Even now, a week after the entire thing happened, she still refused to talk to him and locked her room whenever he was near. It was practically the gossip of the dorm nowadays.

And now he was walking towards them, "Is something the matter, Valliere?" He started off lightly, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, more like an annoying stain," Louise huffed, ignoring Guiche's rapidly reddening face, "What is it you want? I'm still busy planning and your presence here is distracting me from that."

"...I heard you did not involve my family in the incident a week prior," He said quietly, bowing his head. Louise nodded, though the look of annoyance had never left her face, "Then on my honor, I thank you. If you had not done so, my entire family would have been disgraced and no doubt I would have been disowned by my father; as he rightfully should have."

"I don't want your gratitude," Louise waved him off, "If you want to thank someone, thank Headmaster Osmond. He's the reason you're not lacking your title right now." Louise didn't think much on it; he'd been tormenting her for over a year now, and not once did he get in trouble. Even if she did send complaints to his family it wouldn't give her any satisfaction knowing that he got disowned. She was angry at him, but not to that degree.

Guiche flinched at the cold reply. Still, he had promised himself he would do this today and he wouldn't give up on it, "That's not all. There's something else I wish to do."

"Oh? And what's that?" She raised an eyebrow neutrally. No doubt he wanted to say that this didn't change anything and that she was still a Zero in his eyes. He was already expecting him to laugh now.

Which meant his next actions sent a jolt of surprise through her.

With a deep breath and a mumbled prayer, Guiche knelt on one knee and bowed his head, "I did not come here to simply express my gratitude, but to show my regret. I wish to...apologize," The last word came out as noticeably more forced than the rest of the sentence.

Louise's eyes widened, staring at Guiche in surprise. Raziel looked down from his skygazing and glanced at Guiche, slightly interested in what was happening. He'd already heard Guiche's half-hearted apology before; though the boy obviously didn't want him to. Having good ears was very useful at times.

"I apologize for making you bow your head to me. I know it was dishonorable of me, one who calls himself a noble, to make a fellow aristocrat lower herself when she had no fault. And for this I seek your forgiveness, Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière!" He practically shouted out. Raziel looked up and found Tabitha staring down at the scene briefly before practicing her flying maneuvers again.

"Wh-What...d-d-d-"Louise wanted to answer, she really did, but all that came out of her mouth was disjointed stuttering. He had used her full name; in the world of aristocracy, one noble using another ones full name was a show of either absolute respect or absolute dedication. It was actually the first time since attending this school did she hear her full name uttered by someone other than herself. It was basically an ultimatum of sorts to show one was serious.

And she never imagined Guiche of all people would be the first to say it.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before speaking out again, "Why...Why are you apologizing now?" She forced her voice to stay neutral, though it was getting increasingly hard to do so the more she realized that this wasn't just one of her daydreams. This was really happening; the blond playboy was actually apologizing to her.

Guiche gave a wry smile, "Well, truth be told this isn't actually due to my own initiative. It was mostly my brothers idea," He looked down again, a light blush adorning his cheeks, "I know you didn't mention this to my family, but my third older brother has friends in the academy and they told him about what happened a week ago. And...well, let's just say he wasn't happy."

"That doesn't answer my question," Louise commented.

"Right, I'm getting there," He sighed, "Well, he sent me a letter a week ago and told me to meet him at an alleyway in town. You couldn't imagine how scared I was. Why an alleyway and not a room at an inn? I thought he was going to kill me on the spot; skip past disowning altogether." He shuddered. Louise could slightly sympathize with his fear. Kinslaying was a most grave crime, but that didn't stop it from happening; usually from younger siblings in the family that wanted their older siblings out of the way for the inheritance. Older siblings killing younger ones were more rare, but happened nonetheless.

It was kind of like slavery in a sense. It was obviously illegal, but unless shown ironclad proof then other nobles could get away with it. It made her sick. How could one own another persons life and treat it like it belonged to them? It was sickening. To own people and treat them like animals.

Of course, Familiar's were exempt from this rule. They weren't people; they were bonded to the mage through magical rite. Regardless if they were mice, salamander, dragon, or human look-alike.

"It was actually one of the reasons I was awake so early, as your Familiar can attest." He pointed at Raziel, "I got to the town pretty early in the morning by horse and met him at the entrance. He greeted me with a smile and asked how I was doing. For a moment I thought I had misread his letter and that everything was well...and then he dragged to the alleyway near the shops."

_'Hmm, so that was what I saw,'_ Raziel thought idly. He could've sworn he saw something that peaked his interest in the alleyways while he and his master were in town buying the weapons and armor. Unfortunately, Louise had forced him to drop it since she was worried about thieves and he let it go. Oh well, perhaps it was for the best.

"He hit me right in the jaw once we got there," Raziel sighed. Okay, maybe not, "He told me that he knew about what I did and that our mother, may her soul forever be by Brimir's side, would be turning in her grave once she realized what I was doing. Seen some of the things I've done."

"Understandable," Louise nodded, "A noble losing to a commoner (though she used that term VERY loosely in regards to her Familiar) is an absolute disgrace. If you were in Albion now you might have gotten executed."

"Well...not exactly," Guiche shook his head, "He yelled at me about everything: Cheating on Montmorency, making up tales of adventure with father, and...various other things," He looked away, unwilling to elaborate, "He told me he always knew about me doing these things but he hid them from father and our older brothers because he thought that it wasn't drastic enough that they needed to know. It was only this recent incident that seriously tempted him to inform our father."

"And how does that relate to the apology?" Louise still didn't see the connection.

"He told me that he doesn't mind me doing these things - he said I would grow out of it - but that I needed to take responsibility for my actions lest he tell father about them. I had decided to apologize to everyone I wronged recently; and I chose to seek your forgiveness first. A noble takes responsibility for his actions, as he said, and I need to take responsibility for mine."

Louise felt troubled. Didn't she always want this? Ever since he had teased her she dreamed of him begging her for her forgiveness of his own will. She didn't want to use her family name or the like; she wanted him to genuinely regret insulting her and calling her a 'Zero'. She always imagined herself filled with pride, sneering down at whoever asked for her forgiveness.

And yet, looking at him now, all she could feel for him was pity. Why didn't she feel better about this? Why did she feel no sense of pride? She'd waited so long for something like this to happen and yet she couldn't relish in it at all.

"You were one of the first who bullied me. For over a year you mocked me about my magic, my appearance, and even my claim to nobility..." She gripped the wand inside her skirt pocket tightly, "But, that's not what you're apologizing for, is it? No, you want forgiveness for what happened the past week."

Guiche hesitated for a moment before nodding, "Even if you don't forgive me, I won't blame you. Had our positions been switched I may have ordered you to bow down to the ground and beg for my forgiveness. However, I'm aware I will slip back to old habits soon, so I'm apologizing now before I do. I seem to have a chronic case of making an idiot of myself," He joked, though Louise wondered if he really was joking or not.

It was to be expected, of course. He was like a child: Doing whatever he wanted until someone of a higher authority punished him for it. After that he would be all regrets and apologies, but after the shock of the punishment and reprimands wore off, he would go right back to his old ways. She supposed she should relish it while she could. No doubt once he got Montmorency's forgiveness he would slip back to being a womanizer; assuming there were still girls willing to talk with him, that is.

Sure he acted like a gentleman now, but she gave him a week before he was back to his old stupid self.

Louise herself was experienced with a variation of what he was going through. As a child she was often reprimanded for her lack of magical skill by her family (sans Cattleya) and she frequently cried and ran away to hide as a result. When her family inevitably found her they would apologize and say that her safety was more important than her magic. It would give her hope - a cruel illusion - before the same thing happened again. Even now it still happened, and even now she still relished the brief illusion that her family would accept her for who she was.

"Well, I can't say you're not sincere," Louise mumbled, "Alright, even if it may not be my place to do so, this humble daughter of the House of Valliere hereby forgives you for the incident that happened on the previous week. May this be a new beginning for you, Guiche de Gramont," She did her best to lay the drama on thick. Tristainian nobles had a flair for dramatics and it was common custom to do it this way. Not like the barbarians of Germania who liked to drink and have coitus whenever apologies were had.

"R-Really?" A smile overtook his face briefly before he bowed again, "Then, this humble noble sincerely thanks you, Miss Valliere. However, there is one other person here that I would like to ask for forgiveness."

Both nobles turned to Raziel, who was looking at Sylphid circling the sky again. Right now he was busy wondering how fast Derf would go if he was thrown and if he was sharp enough to cut of a tail with a single swipe. The damn swishing appendage was still there; mocking him with its wholeness. That she-dragon was mocking him with it, he knew she was!

"Ahem, Mr. Familiar," Guiche called out with a polite cough. Raziel blinked out of his reverie and turned to face Guiche, "I, Guiche Gramont, humbly wishes for your apology-"

"No need," Raziel interrupted the soon to be lengthy apology, "I do not hate you, and Siesta is okay, so there is no point," At his side, he could hear Derf laughing at his scabbard at Louise and Guiche's expression. Honestly, why did they look so surprised? Sure he would've liked an apology, but a simple 'I'm sorry' would suffice. The people here had such a flare for the dramatic.

The two nobles coughed awkwardly, the tense atmosphere from before absolutely crashing down at the blunt refusal. They were really getting into the whole thing, too.

"Still, there must be something I can do," Guiche insisted, "It would be a dishonor for me if I could do nothing to repay you for the injuries you sustained-"

"That's it!" It was Louise who interrupted him this time, "Guiche, you can still summon Golems, right?" He nodded, "Me and Ra- My Familiar are having trouble thinking of what to do for the Familiar show next week and we need a backup plan just in case. If we aren't able to think of something, then can you summon one of you Golem's to hold a spar with him? That should be enough to count as a demonstration."

Guiche processed her request before nodding. Raziel nodded as well, though his attention wasn't really focused at their conversation.

"Alright, at least we're not doomed to embarrass ourselves on the Familiar Day. Thank Brimir..."

* * *

He and Louise had separated not long after that. She had gone to the library to study up for the coming tests on wind theory and Raziel was given free reign to do whatever he wanted till nighttime hit.

And, as hard as it was for him to believe, he was completely free. No more laundry needed to be doing, he already memorized the layout of the dorm and part of the campus buildings, and Louise didn't give him any instructions apart from practicing with Derflinger. He couldn't even do that since swinging a sword without a target felt pretty pointless and there wasn't a single threat for miles. It almost made him miss Lordran.

"Hey partner, what are you doing now?" Derf asked from his sheath. Raziel looked back at the sword and shrugged, an action he had taken to doing a lot ever since he had spent more than a couple of days here.

Without Lordran's constant danger, he had to admit life felt boring. Sure he didn't miss getting stabbed by skeletons, undead, snake people, golems, and various other monstrosities, but at least the constant stream of threats allowed him to let off frustration and boredom from his solitary journey. Here there was nothing to distract him apart from empty hallways and people who avoided him. The only person he ever talked to was Siesta, and she was busy with her job being a maid.

She had invited him to come to the kitchen for food once or twice, but he had continuously rebuked her offers. Food like moss and grass clumps were only ingested in times of great need. Undead had deadened senses of tastes in addition to their dead cells, so one piece of food barely ever felt different from another. He still remembered the day he had run out of purple moss in Blighttown and had to make do with ingesting a dung pie in order to counteract the stronger poisons. Thankfully his tongue was long dead and could not feel the matter he had forced upon it.

But now he had to find something to distract himself. Sleep came with more intensity the more his mind wasn't occupied and he was trying as hard as he could to put off sleeping. He had to do the process at some point, but not now. It was silly in a way; he felt no fear of injuring himself with his blade but he regretted sleep simply because it gave him a few headaches. He chalked it up to anxiety due to never having it before.

**"The sacrifice is rejected. You will know my wrathhhhh"**

**"Stand away, monster!"**

**"No, that voooiceeee. Not possible. I knowwwww that voice. But he feeeelll- He ended there!"**

**"I did not fall-"  
**

**"Ohhhhh, it remembers THAT, does it?" **

**"I was thrown in, by my own-"**

"Hey, partner, is it just me or is someone sleeping over there?"

Raziel blinked his drooping eyes and looked around him. In his unconscious walking he had somehow found himself at another field; the school had a lot of them, it seemed. This field looked smaller than the others and was surrounded by a thicker covering of tress. By the large size of them, he had to guess that these trees were here even before his master and some of the students.

That wasn't what garnered his attention, however. At the side of the field was Siesta, lying on her back and sleeping away. Raziel looked around the area cautiously before walking towards her. There was no one else here, so that meant it was only the two of them here now.

"Weird place to sleep, huh?" Derf commented, "You should probably wake her up, partner. These aristocrat brats hate catching the servants sleeping on the job and some of them carry around whips."

Raziel disregarded his words and knelt next to her, carefully observing her face. She slept differently from Louise. The small pinkette always had these unconscious frowns on her face whenever he woke her up and always seemed irritated. Siesta by contrast had her mouth parted open ever so slightly and a miniscule amount of drool was going down the side of her lips. Did he look like that when he slept?

Tentatively, he reached out his left hand and poked her cheek, "Muguuu," She twitched and shook her head, but gave no other reaction to the unwanted contact. Intriguing, so people could still go to sleep right after contact with another person? The only other things he'd seen sleep were Seath's snake guards, and the slightest contact was usually enough for them to try and skewer whatever was in front of them.

"Hey partner, what the heck are you doing?" Derf asked.

He once again ignored him and poked her face again. This time she gave no reaction to the contact, so he decided to try something else. Looking at the grass next to his knee, he reached a hand out and took some blades of grass in between his fingers. Careful not to wake her up, he slowly placed his hand atop her face and dumped the grass on top of it.

"Mmmmm," Her face twitched as she felt the greenery make contact with her skin, but again she continued to sleep. Siesta was known for being a deep sleeper among her friends; a fact which was being used against her now. If only she realized how idiotic she looked...

"Hey partner, you're sick," Derf suddenly called out, "I know I'm not one to judge, but taking advantage of a girl while she's sleeping is never good no matter what you say," He admonished him, clicking his hilt in disgust.

Raziel sighed and rolled his eyes. Derf was right: It was wrong for him to take advantage of his friend while she wasn't conscious, "Siesta, wake up," He grabbed her shoulder gently and tried to shake her awake, "Siesta, wake up," He repeated. While he was still curious on how she would react, he would have to rein it in. Curiosity killed the Oolacilian's, as Chester would say.

"Mmmm~" Her eyes twitched for a moment before she finally opened her eyes, "Mr. Familiar...?" She mumbled sleepily, stifling a yawn as her senses came back to her. Blinking a few more times to clear her vision, she finally realized what exactly was happening. The first was that she had fallen asleep somewhere she shouldn't have (again), and the second was that someone saw her before she woke up.

"Uwaah!" And, as predicted, she stumbled back and nearly hit her head on the ground, "D-D-D-Did you see?" She managed to stutter out, face turning red as the Undead continued to stare at the grass clumps still clinging to her face. Quickly she raised up her right hand and used the sleeve to wipe away any drool she may have had.

"See...?" What was she talking about?

"My...My sleeping face..." He continued to look at confusedly at her, "Well, what I mean is..." She shook her head and took a deep breath. It was obvious given his track record for being clueless that he didn't understand a word that she was saying. She had to accept that quirk about him; it was like how Head Chef Marteu liked to kiss people on the cheek or forehead despite how uncomfortable or awkward it was.

"N-Nevermind," She shook her head again, dislodging the few pieces of grass still stuck on her face, "Mr. Familiar, what are you doing here?"

Raziel looked down for a moment, as if in deep thought, before shrugging his shoulders, "Master is in the library, and I cannot read," He answered. While he would have loved to read the books they had on here, there was no way to currently do so without months if not years of learning the language. He was lucky enough that he knew the language around Lordran when he first came across scrolls in the Asylum. That and he didn't want to tell her he was simply looking for things to distract from sleep.

He was never much of a scholar, but he had to admit he found the various books he found in his adventures to be intriguing. Most of them were more often than not about the various sorceries and magics around Lordran or the God's and their legends. And, though he suspected much of the God's benevolence was fabricated, reading about their tales was intriguing all the same. It was a shame all the books in Seath's archives were translated in a language only the Channeler's could read.

"Oh, well...why not come with me then?" Siesta suggested, a bright smile making its way to her face. It was always nice to have company, "Umm, I'm actually going to the halls near the headmaster's room right now to do some light dusting. Do you want to come with me? I could use the company."

Raziel nodded, smiling slightly as well. It was something to keep himself occupied and at least it was better than laundry.

* * *

"The preparations are complete. Set an exact time and signal, and we will follow through," Fouquet read the letter carefully, silently mumbling a silence spell around the area. Even if she screamed out the contents of the letter now no one outside the room would be allowed to hear her.

While she was a renowned thief, in this school she was known as Ms. Longueville; the perfect irony. Pretending to be one of the servant's of the nobles while stealing and taking advantage of them right under their very nose. It would make for a good book.

It had been days since she went to the camp and even still she couldn't keep the distaste out of her thoughts as she forced herself to accept that this was happening. She was going to willingly loose psychotic bandits on students and teachers simply because of a little threat given to her. She was supposed to be a thief, not a murderer for hire who worked for whoever held her leash.

It was ironic. She had no love for the aristocracy, and yet she still found the thought of the teachers and students getting slaughtered to repulsive. Many of the teachers here, while either bumbling or self-important, had their good traits as well. In fact, she could recall nothing but fond things for Colbert and Old Osmond in particular.

Sure the former tried to not so subtly hit on her and the latter was an old pervert of heretical proportions, but they treated her with kindness and like an equal where others would have mocked her for her missing aristocracy. She would miss them when she left this place.

She hoped that all the bandits would die in the process. They needed to serve as distractions and she would lose no tears if they all perished in trying to do their task.

After this 'job', she would have to join the contact assigned to her and make way for Albion. The Reconquista revolution was starting to take power there and she had a hunch that her mysterious employers were either heavily connected with the group or was the group itself. It certainly couldn't have been the royalists; they were too bogged down in honor, virtue, and various other concepts that the art of subterfuge was utterly lost on them.

Sighing, she folded the letter and placed it back onto the envelope. There was a torch hanging on one of the walls on the left side and it would be perfect for her needs.

"And it all burns to ash..." She placed the paper against the orange fire and watched as the paper was slowly engulfed in the flames. Letters were typically disposed of after reading the contents so they couldn't be used as evidence later. In a way it was a sure sign that whoever commanded her now was either very careful or heavily paranoid. Neither option appealed to her; harder to defect and get away from an employer with either qualities.

The sound of the door opening greeted her not long after the last traces of the letter disappeared. Muttering a curse under her breath, she whispered the incantation that would remove the silence spell and turned to face her visitor.

"Oh, Ms. Longueville! What a coincidence to see you here!" Colbert greeted her enthusiastically, "What brings you up here?"

"Ah, Mr. Colbert," She bowed respectfully, "I was here delivering a letter to a friend. Private correspondence, you understand?" He nodded, "May I ask the same of you?"

"Just more research," The smile on his face faded slightly and he sighed, "I heard of a new phenomenon happening on one of the far-off countrysides and was hoping to investigate. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that my propositions to take time-off to travel there will be rejected due to how absurd it sounds."

"New phenomenon?" She asked, slightly intrigued. Despite his quirks, she did find his curiosity for the unknown to be slightly endearing. Most Mages had arrogance en-mass or they believed their magic was simply used to overpower others. Colbert was one of the few Mages she knew that devoted his life to using his magic to help others rather than himself.

"Yes, there are some rumors of ruins found with ancient markings and unknown script!" He quickly regained his enthusiasm, glad to finally find someone who shared his curiosity, "Murals depicting a city surrounded by lush forests and even wands that appear different to ours; though I doubt they could actually practice magic before Founder Brimir founded it. There are even hints that they worshiped God's different to ours! Imagine how far back this must date!"

"Paganism?" Fouquet asked dubiously. The church of Romalia took to the worship of heathen God's as a very serious offense, "This seems oddly detailed for rumors. It seems more like a fairy tale."

"Ahahaha, I can see why you would think that," Colbert laughed, "Truth be told, the only source we have is the journal of some man who claims that he isn't aware of the exact location due to his exhausted state when he found it. However, his journal is very detailed: His findings and descriptions of the God's on the murals are very detailed and are a very interesting read."

"God's? So they worshiped more than one God?" Oh, the church was not going to like this...

"Yes! Intriguing, is it not?" And of course, Colbert cared little for church politics, "There for were four murals in all: The first depicts an old man standing tall and proud, donning a regalia of impressive armor and leading a group of silver knights; the second is of a woman, covered in a deep black cloak and surrounded by fire; the third is more similar to a monster. A large skeleton, its body wreathed with the body of smaller corpses like armor; the last mural is cracked and destroyed, unfortunately. The image has been destroyed and any traces of the God that it depicted is lost."

"It really does sound like something out of a fairy tale," She giggled softly, "Well, I wish you luck on your research. I must get back to work now," With a last goodbye, the teacher and the thief separated from one another.

* * *

"Hmph, I am grateful that the institution's understanding and full cooperation."

Raziel blinked curiously as the voice reached his ears. He and Siesta had just arrived in the halls and already the maid was busy dusting a bust of some obscure woman wearing a crown he didn't know about. Best not to question it, he figured. The nobles in this academy were vain, and most likely it was some kind of past monarch.

"Understanding and cooperation are irrelevant with an order from the palace," Ah, now this voice he recognized: The old man who talked to him earlier, the one they called Old Osmond. Unlike his tone from before, Raziel could make out some slight hostility and annoyance in it. It seemed such a far cry from the calm and even somewhat senile old man he first met.

Sometimes having sharper hearing was a bad thing. It wasn't as if it was naturally inborn: He ears had learned to naturally pick apart sound due to the paranoia he experienced in the Tomb of the Giants. He spent days there, the darkness being his only constant companion. He'd foolishly dropped his lantern running away from an overwhelming giant skeleton and he found himself stuck with no light source.

And so he had to rely on his hearing to save him. Every little crack, every small groan, every time he even so much as heard a flicker of a sound his ears would amplify the noise and he would have to determine whether it was just his paranoia or it was another monster waiting around the corner to send him back to the bonfire.

It was actually weaker this time around. Before he could make out noises behind closed doors and even hear his opponent's breaths and heartbeats (provided they had one) once he was focused enough. Now the only reason he could hear was because the door to the headmaster's office was ajar.

"Hmph, very well," The unfamiliar voice replied. Raziel heard a bunch of footsteps making their way to the exit and he turned his head away from the door.

Off to the side he could see Miss. Longueville walking towards the office. She saw the two of them and gave a courteous nod, the two of them giving nods in return. Raziel was about to voice out a warning to her about the conversation still taking place before the door fully opened.

The man that came out the door was...well, he wasn't going to mince words: He was possibly the stupidest looking person he'd ever seen. His main attire was a mix of a robe and what looked like a puffy slime. The main color of it was blue with gold trimmings, but the cape around his back was red and the collar around his neck was even frillier than Guiche's uniform. On his legs he wore pants that ended just below the knees, the cloth puffing rather oddly like it had been compressed with air. To complete the ensemble he wore what looked like white stockings or leggins and brown shoes.

Really, he looked other than Domholl of Zena, and that was a major feat.

Ms. Longueville bowed to him, "Hmm, how about we have dinner sometime, Ms. Longueville?" The strangers eyes not so subtly moved towards her chest. Raziel noticed that it happened to a lot of nobles. Many of the ones he observed often found their eyes drooping down from the female's face to their breasts without fail every single time.

Though, he couldn't help but notice that it never happened to his master the rare times she actually found herself talking with her male classmates. Perhaps it was simply because she demanded attention that they couldn't lose focus and stare at her chest.

"Huh?" She blushed and put her hands against her chest. She apparently noticed it too, "Oh, Count Mott, you flatter me! That would be an honor!" She hid it well, but she was obviously forcing herself to lie about it. The giggle and the smile were fake and the redness of the face seemed to be more of a conditioned reaction than anything else.

"Good, I will look forward to it then!" Mott smiled lecherously and walked walked away from her. Immediately after his back was turned the smile dropped from her face and was replaced with a disgusted frown, her hands still on her chest. Raziel couldn't help but smile internally at the quick about face and the slam of the office as she went in.

"Oh, and who is this?" He stopped his casual walk and stared at the two of them. Or rather, stared at Siesta. He ignored Raziel's presence entirely, "In my visits to the academy I'm afraid I've never met your acquaintance. Would you introduce yourself?"

"M-My name is Siesta, my noble lord," She grabbed both sides of her uniforms skirt and bowed. Like Ms. Longueville, she had a stiff smile on her face and she could see her shoulders slightly tremble. Whoever he was she was afraid of him. Given by the cane he had on his hand he must've been a sorcerer as well

"Hmm, Siesta~" She shivered involuntarily as the name rolled off his tongue, "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you my dear, but I'm afraid I must be going."

Giving another bow to the retreating noble, Siesta waited for half a minute to pass before she finally sighed in relief, "He's gone, right?" She whispered softly to her friend. Raziel nodded and she gave another relieved sigh, "Thank goodness~ I thought it would be the end then and there."

"What is the matter?" He pretty much figured out that mages were the equivalent of Darkmoon blades for the common populace and many showed a fear of them. But the way Siesta was reacting indicated that it wasn't the problem she had with him.

"That's Count Mott, an Imperial messenger of the palace," Siesta informed him, "He visits the academy from time to time and hires some of the servants; all of them have been maids so far, and some of them were my friends..."

"What happened?"

"That's the thing: We don't exactly know. We've tried to keep contact with them but none of them have replied to our letters. Commoners are also not allowed to visit an Arisotocrat's place without invitation, so we have no way of visiting them. I'm really scared, not knowing what happened to them. When he looked at me I thought I would be next and that it would be the end."

Raziel looked at his worried friend and sighed. He couldn't do anything to comfort her; he wasn't one to look for when needing comfort. Still, he had to try his best, "Do not be afraid," He placed a hand on top of her head. Given that they were the about same height it was somewhat awkward, "If he takes you, then I will save you. I promise," He smiled at her.

It was a promise he didn't know he could keep. He had already failed Anastasia, what was stopping him from failing Siesta too? But his friend needed re-assurance and he couldn't simply stand there and let her wallow. Losing a sense of life was the first things that led to Hollowing, and he didn't want to see that happen to someone as affable as her.

"Thanks...Thanks Mr. Familiar," Through her shivers she managed to force a smile on her face.

* * *

They'd separated not long after that and he met up with his master in her room. After getting her dressed for sleeping he waited till she was fast asleep before leaving the room to clear his head of everything that happened.

And that was when he got dragged into this situation now.

Flame opened an unfamiliar door with his front paws and all but tossed Raziel in. Raziel blinked, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness of the room and the weird smell permeating the air. It smelled lightly of burning candles, but there was a sweetness mixed in that he couldn't identify.

"Welcome to my room," A sultry voice called out from the darkness. He recognized it immediately: Kirche von Zerbst, his masters supposed mortal enemy.

The candles around the area immediately lit all at once, dousing the room in a sea of orange light. He flinched: He still wasn't a fan of flames in high amounts and spread across a large area. Flame was fine because he was more of a creature of fire, not fire itself. That and he seemed to have the properties of a bonfire, which he sorely needed.

The interior was similar to Louise's room in a way; only more lavishly decorated and covered in scented candles. Off to the side he could see Flame yawn and lay down, watching him idly and flicking his tongue at his mistresses direction. So she just wanted him too meet Kirche? He didn't have to drag him in here like that.

Raziel turned to the bed and saw Kirche wearing...not much of anything at all. Like his master she seemed to think about taking clothing for its design rather than its actual usefulness. In contrast to his master's somewhat conservative nightdress, Kirche wore a purple nightgown that did absolutely little to hide the flesh from her thighs and breasts. It was the way she dressed when going on her little 'hunting trips'.

Personally, he wondered how she wasn't cold at all. Even he shivered in his armor and deadened body from the nights cold winds.

"Well, well, we finally meet alone at last~" Kirche smiled seductively, beckoning him forward with her finger. Raziel didn't move, "Aww, you're shy, aren't you? Don't be. I just want to ask some questions."

"Questions?" He still didn't move from his spot. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling getting too close to her would end with him getting burned. After all, she would have to be a strong sorcerer if she could tame a Salamander. The only person stronger than her around had to be that blue haired child riding that dragon. It takes skill to tame one of those hellish beasts.

"Hmm, yes," She walked over to him, hips swaying with every step. If he didn't want to come to her then she would go first, "I wonder what my Flame finds so interesting about you," She nudged her head to the direction of her Familiar, "He's usually so shy around new people. Even to me he doesn't lick or show much affection: Salamanders are a proud species. I wonder what he sees in you."

He must have passion in him that equaled even hers. Salamanders were attracted to flames, intensity, and passion. So Flame must have seen the passion in his fight with Guiche and felt attracted to him as a result. It made her excited. To see someone with such deep passion and intensity that they could attract the normally proud creatures intrigued something in her.

The only other explanation was that his soul was being barbecued, but that was just plain absurd.

Raziel honestly didn't know anything firmly, but he had an idea. Silently, he removed the bandages from his left hand and exposed the burn wounds hidden underneath. Flame immediately crawled over to him and started licking the exposed skin with his flaming tongue.

"Interesting~" She looked down at show of affection and grinned. It was cute in a way to see her normally stoic Familiar licking someone's hand, "Hey, can I ask another question?"He nodded, still looking at Flame, "What exactly happened that day on the summoning festival? Valliere's a lot of things, but she's not one who hires actors to pretend to be her Familiar's. And you don't look like a monster to me."

Most of her peers still refused to budge on their theory that he was anything but an absurdly skilled commoner actor. She didn't know what he was, but her hardly seemed like the monster she saw Valliere summon a week ago. He looked like any regular teen, albeit with more bandages.

"...I do not know..." He looked down, unable to look her in the eye. All he could recall was a green gate and pushing forward to it, trying to escape his torment. After that his memory became a blur till he woke up in the clinic. Given some of the whispers he heard in the clinic, he obviously did something he wouldn't do normally.

"So you have memory loss too?" Kirche grabbed his chin and made him face her, another arm snaking its way around his neck. She was surprised at the feeling of the contact; his skin felt cold at first but gradually warmed the longer she held onto it, "Well, why don't we try making some memories now?" She leaned forward, lips puckering in anticipation. She was excited. Half in curiosity and half in the knowledge that she was stealing something from Louise. The girl called her a whore and a thief, so she was at least going to indulge on the second part. She obviously didn't care about her Familiar that much considering how distant she acted towards him.

"Ah!" Raziel backed away as Flame bit down on his hand, causing Kirche to lose her hold and nearly topple to the floor, "What did-" He looked down at his hand and stopped the question. It was healed again, but something felt different. He didn't know how- call it instinct - but he could immediately tell that the burns wouldn't come back anymore. Had Flame given him something when he bit him?

"Oh, what did Flame do?" Kirche asked, worry actually seeping into her voice, "I'm not an expert in water magic, but maybe I can burn the wound closed. Here, just bite your lip and count to 5," She reached inside her bosom and pulled out her wand, muttering an incantation. A tiny ball of flame ignited at the end of the wooden instrument.

Raziel ignored the injury, though calling it that would be a stretch, and focused on Kirche's catalyst, "You use pyromancy as well?" He asked. He couldn't keep the slight excitement from his voice. He assumed all the nobles here were Sorcerer's and that they frowned upon Pyromancy, But here was one of them using it.

"Pyromancy?" Kirche looked at him in confusion, "This is called flame magic. I don't know what pyromancy is."

"This," He pointed at her wand, "You are using a catalyst, but the flames of chaos run through the flame. The flame is stronger than normal, similar to Quelana's. Just like Laurentius..." A burst of pain enveloped his head. His eyes started fogging over, becoming more and more unfocused as he stared at her wand, "Laurentius said...he said...that the flames...and Anastasia..."

Kirche's eyes widened as his eyes suddenly closed he fell forward, nearly toppling her under his momentum, "Hey, what happened?" She shook his shoulders, but he gave no reaction. He was barely even breathing, "Hey, wake up, this isn't funny!"

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Laurentius?" Raziel asked the over-eager pyromancer, "The swamps of blighttown are really dangerous. Maybe I should go with you just in case you run into trouble."

"My friend, in this land, danger is a guarantee," Laurentius smiled, "But without risk, there can be no reward. You braved the swamps and received a reward for your efforts. How could I call myself a pyromancer when I don't risk myself for further teachings?"

Right now there were only three of them in Firelink shrine. Raziel, Laurentius, and Lautrec - Four of them if one counted Anastacia. The sad warrior that usually insulted them had gone down to New Londo in order to do something about Frampt's breath. What he hoped to find there was a mystery to him.

"I still don't like it," Laurentius stood up and offered a hand up to Raziel, which he accepted, "Don't you see the amount of dead bodies down there? The swamp is poison as well, so you'll need herbs and moss to counteract the poison. Here, take some of mine," He reached into the pack of his knight armor and fished out clumps of moss, offering them to the Pyromancer.

"I will be fine, don't worry me," He pushed his friends hand back, "Thank you. You have been a great friend the short time I've known you and I truly appreciate it. May the God's watch over you."

"Hey, you're making this sound like it's our last meeting," Raziel smiled, ignoring the fact that it couldn't be seen from under his helmet, "We'll see each other again. I need to pass by the swamps later on for new pyromancies, so we'll be seeing each other again. Good luck with my friend."

The two friends shook each others hands and waved goodbye to one another. Once Laurentius went up the stairway from the shrine, Raziel sighed. There was only one other person here he could talk to and he certainly didn't relish in the idea of talking to him. But, he had helped him in fighting that abominable dragon in the depths and he needed to thank him.

Passing by the central bonfire, he could see Frampt sleeping and shook his head in amusement. For a great guardian he sure seemed clueless a lot of the time. Making his way down the stairway, he came face to face with the man he could barely consider a friend.

Lautrec of Carim, the Undead he'd saved from the cage not too long ago. Lautrec was honestly a mystery to him; he came off as sinister at times and distant, but when he needed help against the Gargoyle and Dragon he was one of the few apart from Solaire who actually helped him.

"Ah, there you are," Unusually, Lautrec made the first move to talk to him, "Rang the two bells of awakening, did you? This means the path through Sen's fortress is open now."

"That's what Frampt said," Raziel answered, "The fortress leads through Anor Londo where we can get the Lordvessel. Why, are you planning to go there as well? If so, it might be safer if we travel together," He suggested. Lautrec was a formidable fighter and he had experience fighting together with him twice already. It would be beneficial for both of them to work together even temporarily.

"Perhaps..." He turned his head to the side and stared at the cage holding Anastacia, circling around Raziel so he was behind him, "That Firekeeper has served me well...but enough with her..."

"What are you-" Raziel stopped, unable to finish what he said. Lautrec had stabbed him through the back, the crescent blade embedding into his skin. The familiar feeling of his life leaving him started to spread throughout his body.

"You have outlived your usefulness as well," Lautrec kicked him to the ground and pulled his blade out, "I needed you to succeed so you could open the way to Anor Londo," He stepped on Raziel's back, denting the armor, "You'll come back from this death; we all do. But without the bonfire here how long will it take you to catch up to me? I need to make preparations for my Goddess and you will try to stop me from doing what is necessary.. "

He gave him a kick to the side and made his way to the bars of the cage. Anastacia was looking up at him, showing neither hesitance nor fear of her coming fate. Seeing this, Lautrec laughed and offered a small prayer for her. Her soul was about to find rest in Fina's embrace.

"Lau...trec..." Raziel tried to drag himself forward but it was too late. Helpless, he looked up and saw Lautrec slowly slashing Anastacia's neck with the crescent blade. The girl didn't struggle at all as the life left her body.

"I'll...kill...you...!" He crawled forward again. Lautrec laughed and, in a burst of light, he'd disappeared. A homeward bone, Raziel noted bitterly. He'd prepared for this beforehand.

Feeling the last of his life leave his body, Raziel continued to crawl forward till he reached the cage. It was there that he saw it; through the crumpled remains of her clothes, there stood a singular black orb. An instrument of taking revenge.

With shaking hands, he grabbed the orb in his hands and held it tightly in his fist. He was going to kill Lautrec and he was going to save Anastacia. With that last thought in his mind, he allowed his body to once again enter the cycle of death and rebirth.

* * *

**Woah, this chapter ended up longer than usual! This chapter was actually supposed to be longer: I planned not to have a timeskip and actually show Guiche meeting his brother. But, I really need to get on with the story, so the next chapter will be the Familiar show:) I swear it will be the next chapter or next next chapter if it's the last thing I do.**

**Also, I apologize for re-posting chapter 8. Tired night and I repeated it by accident. Oh, and for the last time in case anyone missed it, this is not a crossover between Legacy of Kain and Tsukaima. I'm just using the dialogue and scenes because they fit with the tone of Dark Souls.**

**Anyway, I'm going to answer questions quickly and post a question of my own so I can get some sleep. It's 4 in the morning here. **

**Blinded in the Bolthole - He's based of the real life Cesare Borgia, son of Pope Alexander the VI and a right bastard even for renaissance times. He's also the main character in the tv series "The Borgias", which is where I got the idea of the politics here from.**

**Junky - Oh yes, very soon.**

**Ashlands of the Cold - Actually yeah, they say THE Furtive Pygmy in the intro, so there's only one of them. Whether Manus is the Pygmy or not is the realy mystery, though I personally believe he is since there's only one grave of Primeval man, which would make sense if any human can become a giant ape.**

**Daniel - Already removed the answer to Random Reader and DaggerDoom. Though you're free to not read if you want, I'm not forcing you.**

**Lastly, does Kirche sleep around or just date around? I keep getting conflicting answers.  
**

**Alright, that's the end of this chapter! See you in the next one where the plot actually moves forward:D**


	10. Prelude to Destruction

**200 reviews! This is my first story to reach the 200 mark, and I'd like to thank you guys for everything. Hopefully I make your views worth it.**

**Alright, time for the beginning of the(hopefully) much awaited Fouquet arc:) I'm going to say this now: You're probably going to hate me for the crappy fight scenes (if you could call them that) in this arc. Sorry, but I really do suck when it comes to fight scenes:p Hopefully some of you find it in your heart to forgive me.**

**Oh, and was I the only one bugged by the resolution of the Count Mott arc? The old bastard tries to rape Siesta, rubs it into Saito's face, and was about to take the girl's first time before Saito busted in and stopped him. After all this, what's his resolution? He gets off scot-free and even gets the stupid porn book he wanted. Were we supposed to laugh at the stupidity and outright ignore the fact that Mott's free to do this kind of shite again the minute he finishes reading that book? He's a glaring "Karma Houdini".**

**And I'd like to thank DaggerDoom, RickRolled, and ArmorOfGeddon for giving me advice and talking with me about the story. Thanks for everything and I should have said it sooner.**

**Lastly, everybody read the Dark Souls fanfic "Darkish Souls"! Seriously, the writing is superb and the CU presented there is awesome: A mute, kleptomaniac murderer who kills and steals for shits and giggles. It's disturbingly accurate of the average player who cared little other than killing monsters, getting the best loot, and even killing NPC's before a new game plus just because they know they can get away with it. **

**Anyway, I don't have much to say, so lets get this started.**

* * *

It felt cold.

Raziel opened his eyes slowly, his yellow irises flickering to life as consciousness came to him again. Blinking a few more times to try and remove the bright spots from his vision, he found himself observing the room around him; a habit he had picked up ever since he stopped dying due to the lack of giant monsters trying to nibble off his arm (not that it would work).

It took him a moment to remember where he was; Kirche's bedroom. Specifically, he was on her bed, which seemed to be in the process of smothering him with the amount of blankets on his body and the pillows at the back of his head. Despite the blankets on top of him, he could feel nothing but a cold chill sweep through him with every (unnecessary) breath he took.

Oh, and there was the issue of Kirche sleeping beside him and keeping his right arm pinned between her chest, but that was a minor thing.

Using his remaining hand, he carefully nudged the thick blanket off him and flinched. He was naked, at least from the waist up. Giving the room a quick once over again, he found his armor - though he still hesitated to call it that - stacked neatly atop a nearby chair along with Derflinger. The sword hadn't spoken a single word ever since he was dragged here by the Salamander.

Speaking of the overgrown lizard, he couldn't find him anywhere, "Where is he?" He mumbled to himself. His master told him that Familiar's normally stayed with their masters at night, though he was an exception to the rule, both in order to protect them in case of trouble and for convenience's sake. Technically he was supposed to stay with his master tonight as well, her reason being that he needed sleep for the upcoming trial, but he ignored that. He would risk her yelling if it stopped him from getting a split head.

Shaking his head slowly, he took a deep breath and tried to piece together why he was sitting on this monst- bed with his upper body bare. He had obviously fainted, that much was obvious, but that wasn't usually a cause for alarm. Given that there were no injuries on his body, it should've been obvious to anyone that there was nothing to worry about and that he would wake up soon.

Internal injuries did happen from time to time, but they were extraordinarily rare and only happened in cases of strong poisoning or against crystals. His body could imitate the physical appearance of a healthy human being, but he was no longer alive. He had no blood, no beating organs, and his bones were probably rotted that simply touching them would cause permanent damage.

But like all the others of his kind, the magic of the Darksign kept him alive. Through either magic or some other unknown abomination, his body kept going no matter the destruction wrought upon it. His bones crushed, his flesh torn from his body, his eyes burned by overhwlming heat; none of it mattered. His wounds would heal, his mental faculties restored before he got up and continued on. Some would call it a blessing, many called it monstrous, he called it convenient.

It was the only way one could tell an Undead from a living being. When normal humans got wounded, their body would react to it: Wounds festered and became infected, bones would snap, flesh would burn, blood would pour from the injury. But to an Undead, none of these things came. Their true bodies, the ones they hid behind their illusion of life, was already destroyed. Devoid of all life. There was nothing that could destroy them other than their minds breaking from the strain of an eternal life being hunted for what they were.

They chose to cope with this in their own different ways. Some tried to put forth a goal, like reaching the sun or trying to appease their religion. Others tried to ignore their problems, looking for adventure and excitement despite the grim reality of their situation. A rare case or two continued on simply to help others or do their assigned duties, knowing full well they would never get rewarded for their actions. He couldn't remember how his past self dealt with it. He wasn't sure he wanted to remember anymore. He didn't care.

His free hand unconsciously went to the lower left of his neck. The darksign branded people in different places, but in the end they were always there. The small circle could've appeared anywhere; on top of the heart, the stomach, the spine, or even the forehead. His was placed on the neck, for whatever reason. The bandages kept it constantly hidden, but he could feel it burning into his skin. A sure sign of anger.

The vivid recollection was still fresh in his mind, and he still felt the anger from the memories. He wanted to kill Lautrec again. He wanted to rip the helmet from his head and beat his smug face in till there was nothing recognizable about him left. The death he received was too quick.

He was brought out of his reverie by the smell of fire. His left hand was burning again, the flames flicking around chaotically before settling down onto his palm again, "Damn," He cursed quietly before muttering the counter sign, breathing a sigh of relief as the flames abated once again.

"Need to calm down," Raziel gripped the sheets with his hands and tried to keep happy thoughts: Spending time with his friends (however short they may have been), the joy when he managed to kill a large monster, the talks he had with Siesta about Tristain, splattering Kaathe and Frampt against the wall with a hammer and watching their guts slowly slide down the wall as their voices croaked due to the pain.

Okay, the last one didn't happen, but it made him happy just imagining it.

There were many catalysts for summoning the fire. Determination and willpower were often used, but there other other available reasons. Fanaticism, the desire to learn, the desire to atone, the want for power, and many others. And yet among those many reasons, there was the one base need: Anger. The hate, the sorrow, the desire for destruction that came from the primal emotion. It could accurately be described as the weakest reason, yet the strongest. A person lost control when angry and became impulsive and reckless. But with anger came power, power that could feed the flame and make it stronger.

His anger needed to be kept in check. Anger caused him to lose control of the flames and, if he didn't stop it in time, it would consume him as it did his enemies. Not that death wasn't common for him, but he would've preferred not being blamed for burning down the room he was currently staying along with the inhabitants inside of it.

With that in mind, Raziel began the slow process of removing his arm from her tight hug. He tried going slowly at first, mostly to not disturb her from her sleep, but the vice grip she had on his right arm didn't waver "Let go..." He muttered, annoyance seeping into his voice. Using his free hand, he began prying at the arms in an effort to separate himself from her. He could've probably separated her arms from his if he didn't hold back, but that would probably end with her arm being broken. Strength had its disadvantages.

"Why?"

Raziel blinked in confusion. What in the void was that? Turning to the side, his non-beating heart nearly went up his throat: Kirche was awake. Surprising, given that he didn't realize she had awakened. He was getting rusty.

"I need to go," Raziel tried to shake her off again, but her grip remained iron-clad, "Master instructed me to not leave the room...for too long," He lied a little at the end, but it was harmless. He still didn't understand why he felt wary around her. There was something different about her compared to Siesta or his perpetually angry master. It wasn't as if she was threatening him - far from it actually - but he still couldn't get the feeling out of his gut that associating with her was a bad idea.

"Aww, why the hurry?" Kirche tightened her grip on his arm and scooted closer to him, exposing more of her bare skin to him. Raziel raised an eyebrow at the gesture and chose to ignore it. She wasn't burning his face off, that was enough, "You had me worried when you fainted a few hours ago. I had to...make sure you weren't too hot, wearing all that armor and all."

Gods damn it, those fainting spells of his were getting troublesome. Nevermind the fact that it looked moronic; anybody could go up to him and slit his throat and there would be nothing he would be able to do to defend himself. At least she was kind enough to watch over him - even if she did do it in a way that went against his personal space.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he shook his arm again, stronger than last time, and pulled his arm from her grasp. Now that she was awake, he didn't have to be careful for fear of waking her up.

Kirche gave a slight jolt at the abrupt action and pouted, "Going back to your master, then?" She called out teasingly. He turned back to her for just a second and nodded, "Fine, fine~ Wouldn't want her to get too mad, would we?" Another nod, "There is one thing that I'm curious about. I hope you'll indulge me."

"What is it?" He didn't bother facing her, still busy trying to put on the damnable 'armor' his master bought him. Kirche would have found herself staring a lot more if the bandages didn't cover most of his exposed chest.

"You fainted earlier right after saying something about 'pyromancy'" The way she said it indicated she found the word nonsensical, "I want to know why. And you kept mentioning something about an Anastacia and Laurentius. Friends of yours?"

So she didn't know he was a user? He wondered briefly how she ignored the smell of fire that came from his palm earlier before he remembered: The entire room was covered in candles and she slept with a Salamander nearby. The smell of smoke and ash was probably commonplace for her.

Raziel tightened the last buckle on the armor before stopping. How much could he tell her? She did indeed use pyromancy earlier, but she was still a sorcerer and prejudices against the chaotic magic ran deep. Telling her of his friendship with a Firekeeper and a Pyromancer - both of whom Sorcerer's actively discriminated against - might end up making things worse for him.

"Pyromancy is...something I have experience in," He started off vaguely. Having experience in something didn't automatically mean he used it, so he had plausible deniability if she showed signs of prejudice, "Laurentius and Anastacia are dear friends of mine. One of the very few." A slight twinge of sadness reached into his voice before he pushed it down. It didn't matter where they were; they were gone and he was here.

"Yes, I can see where your 'experience' with fire comes from," She pointed the the bandages covering his neck and face, "Zero must have botched her summoning spell or something and injured you...wherever you come from," She scoffed, "But enough about that. I'm more interested in this Anastacia girl. The way your voice sounded when you called her name. There was something there, am I right?"

"There?" He turned back to her, a confused look on his face.

"Oh, you know what I mean!" Truthfully, he really didn't, "The way your voice cried out for her before you fainted. How her name was the last thing to pass from your lips before you lost consciousness. She was obviously special too you, so tell me. An ex-lover? A maiden you fell in love with who never returned your affections? Perhaps the daughter of a noble?"

"What do you mean?" Raziel asked again, still confused on what exactly she was blabbering about.

"Oh for- Did you love her?" The fiery redhead stated bluntly, "I have an eye when it comes to these things," She tapped the side of her head proudly, "I can tell there was something more than friendship with her."

"Love...?" He let the world roll off his tongue slowly. He knew what love was, but he didn't know what it looked like or what it felt like. Love was for the few lucky enough to escape the curse of Undeath that plagued the entire land. And if the curse of Undeath didn't end you, the disease, the inquisitions from the church of Thorolund, the poverty, and the monsters would certainly try. Many were naturally war of romantic relations given the general state of Lordran and the lands around it.

But wasn't love spending time with the person above all else? Or maybe it was spending your entire life together with that person? He honestly didn't know. The only time he'd ever read about love were times he managed to find an intact book talking about the God's. Gwyn's love for his wife and children was described as pure and his devotion to her was eternal.

Then again, that certainly didn't stop Gwyn from erasing his son from history and treating his snake-legged brat like a woman due to some warped standards, so love probably wasn't strong enough to stop your own desires. In the end, love didn't stop ones own selfish desires.

"...No," He picked up Derflinger's sheath and slung him across his back, "I don't love her."

Kirche was about to ask more before he briskly walked to the door and left, closing the door behind him with a dull thud. She sighed, half in boredom that she had nothing else to do and half in annoyance that she had effectively been blown off. He was hiding something, and she hated it when people kept secrets. She would find out what he was keeping hidden from her.

* * *

Raziel sighed, leaning against the wall of the courtyard wall. Despite mentioning that hours had passed, the twin moons still shined brightly against the nighttime sky, a sight he still found enjoyable despite how many times he saw it. There was something in the serene beauty of it all that entranced him more than anything he'd seen in Lordran. The view from Londo was tainted with the knowledge that it was an illusion.

He had to wake his master soon, but for now he was free to do whatever he wished. Now that he had familiarized himself with the school, there was litte to do now other than stand around waiting for the day to come. It was mind-numbingly dull.

The courtyard was serene, almost haunting in a way. During the day there were often students milling about followed by their Familiars, along with serving staff who tended to their every beck and call. Now there was nothing there save for the chirp of insects interrupting the moonlit garden. Peace like this was impossible in Lordran. Safety was an illusion, as was the idea of a paradise.

"Hey, partner," Derflinger yawned and piped up from his sheath, "I didn't want to say anything earlier, but are you all right? You've been acting odd ever since you woke up from that girl's room. Something on your mind?"

"Nothing," He sighed and stared up. He technically didn't lie; he didn't love Anastacia. Did the 'him' from his past did? He didn't know, but either way it didn't apply to him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't combine the present him to the one from his memories. It was as if he was watching the life of someone else. How was 1he supposed to react? Should he accept it despite the disconnect he felt?

"I may be an old sword, partner, but I'm not that dull yet," Derf commented, slightly offended, "There's something bothering you. Is it the memory you remembered? If it is, then don't let it bug you," He clicked, "The past is the past. I mean, I barely remember a thing about everything that's happened the past thousand years, but I don't let it bug me. Just keep looking forward."

"Perhaps..." Raziel sat down with his back to the wall, placing Derflinger beside him, "Deflinger, do you know why you exist?" He suddenly asked.

"Why? Partner, I'm a sword. I was made for a warrior to use. Whether that warrior chooses to defend or to destroy, the sword doesn't choose. There's no grand purpose or prophecy about me. I go where I go. Its not always place I want to go to, but what else is there? There's nothing else I can do but kill. Don't you agree?"

Were Raziel more idealistic, he would've disagreed with Derflinger, "We can try to choose, but in the end we are dragged along like pawns in a game. I did not choose to be here now, but I do not question it. People like me...have no choice but to accept." He tried to fight fate, to look for other options, but fate's machinations eventually dragged him into its weave.

"Hah, people like you?" Derf parroted, "I dunno know about that, partner. I get the feeling that there's something special about you. You're a user and that girl summoned you, so that must mean something. Its been too long since I've been used by someone with the runes on their hands. I've been passed along and left by so many sellswords and pathetic nobles that I lost track: Not that I remember many of them. Bunch of pathetic gloryhounds who thought having a talking sword blessed them or something."

"Life was hard for you," Raziel commented wryly.

"Eh, no more than the usual," If Derf could have shrugged, then he would have done so right about now, "A lot of people think being immortal is all fun and games. But how fun is it, really? I can't go more than a few years without some battle breaking out and then I think to myself 'This is never gonna end'. You humans are lucky. No matter how much war and death you see, it'll all end at some point. To me? Its just another day that lasts forever."

Raziel could understand how he felt. The Undead died before it really mattered, but it didn't change the fact that they were immortal and ageless. But every Undead considered it a curse, even him. What he wanted was "Life": To hear his heart beat, to feel pain when he was injured that verified that he was living, to age and die. They could pretend and sacrifice as much humanity as they wanted, but in the end it was only an illusion. A perverse reflection of what they could never have.

"Aaaaagh!" Derf grunted, "What the hell are we doing, talking about depressing stuff like this? We're better than this!" A large amount of clicks followed his statement, "Lets talk about something more interesting!

Clouds were beginning to form overhead, slowly blocking out the moons bright light. Raziel gave an annoyed twitch and turned back to Derflinger, "Such as?"

"That girl from earlier. What was her name?" Raziel spoke up to tell him before he was cut off, "Oh yeah, Birch! Is it Birch? Eh, close enough!" Okay, Derf was acting weird..."I went to sleep since I didn't want to interrupt you two, given that I'm such a great guy, but I'm curious. Are you sure doing **it **with another girl is a good idea while you're contracted to that girl?"

"It?" What was with people and speaking in weird code?

"You know; IT!" Derf chuckled, "Now don't get me wrong, partner; I'm an expert when it comes to these things, but that doesn't mean I like it or anything. A lot of the stupid nobles who owned me tried to use me to woo a girl or two. A talking sword is really rare, after all."

"Uh-huh..." Raziel had no idea what he was talking about. If he was asking if he loved her, then why did he call it "It"?

"I'm just looking out for your safety is all. That girl you're bonded to doesn't seem like the type who likes sharing her things. Considering how much those two fight, I don't think she'd share a piece of paper, let alone her Familiar. You just be careful now," Raziel nodded, "Anyway, how did you end up being contracted to her anyway?"

"I do not know," He answered truthfully. She seemed to remember, but she never said anything. He didn't ask.

"Well, you like her?"

Now there was an odd question. Did he like his master? Personally he found her unpleasant and too quick to lose her temper. But did he hate her? Considering she somehow saved him from his eternal torment, not really, "...I do not hate her." He finally conceded. He found that it was much easier to speak half-truths to people rather than saying his mind.

"That's not what I asked", He clicked, "I asked you if you like her or not. You don't seem to care much for her far as I can tell."

"Perhaps..." Raziel dodged the question again. He owed her a debt of gratitude, but that didn't mean he had to like her. He owed Lautrec a debt of gratitude and yet that didn't change the fact that his death came from his hands, "She saved me. That is all that matters to me right now. For the time being, my life is hers till she chooses to release me."

"And what if she doesn't let you go?" Derf challenged.

Raziel looked down at the ground silently before turning back to the talking sword, "She will not have a choice," Derf gave a click of the hilt, urging him to continue, "I do not know how much time I have, but it cannot be long. I will die soon enough."

"Huh, pretty grim talk there, partner. You know, I've seen people talk about their deaths and act like it's no big deal, but I could tell they were making it up to look better. But you? I don't see that. hell, you sound almost relieved, like you want it to come for you. You aren't scared of dying?"

For the first time that night, Raziel smiled; a mixture of irony and amusement, "I do not fear what I have already experienced. Death never holds me, no matter how much I wish it to. It is something I've grown accustomed to."

"See, there's that weird talk again," Derf complained, "You act like you're above human needs. Far as I know, partner, being a user doesn't make you something else other than human. You're human, just like pinky or that maid girl you were spending time with."

Derflinger was wrong; he was less than that.

He was about to reply before a splash of water hit his face. Blinking in surprise, he looked up and flinched as another drop of water started to cascade down his face, "Ah shit, its raining!" Derf yelled, retreating back into his scabbard, "Partner, go back inside! Water's a real pain in the ass when it comes to metal, and I'm rusty enough as it is!"

Raziel wasn't listening, however, too fascinated by what just occurred. Droplets of rain started to pour down his face, but he continued to look up at the sky, "What is this?" He reached up and wiped the already moist bandages. Water coming from the sky? Impossible, and yet it was happening right now. Better yet, water that wasn't poisonous or extremely thick? It was as if the land was blessed with good fortune. He had never seen anything like this happen in Lordran before.

He could feel the cold water on his face, dropping down from his eyes, to his cheeks, and finally his mouth and chin. It was relieving in a way, like he was being cleansed by Humanity. He knew he was being idiotic, but there was something inherently fascinating with the natural occurrence that held him in.

He blinked as some of the drops made their way to his eyes. It felt irritating, but he couldn't bring himself to be angry about it. Was this what crying felt like? It certainly seemed close to how some of his friends described it. He could still remember how...

**"Quelaag? Please, sister, do not cry. I'm happy, truly. I have you, don't I?"**

**"**Aggh!" Raziel turned to the wall and smashed his fist into it, leaving a noticeable dent on the stone wall. His head started to hurt again, but that wasn't problem. He could feel anger and guilt rising within him. But he didn't even know why! There was no reason for him to feel guilty!

**"I'll be fine. I have you, dear sister. But promise me… that you will take care of yourself."**

He shouldn't feel guilty! It wasn't his fault! Quelaag attacked him! She gave him no other choice but to kill her in self-defense. How was he to know what her intentions were?

But in the end, would it have mattered? Would he let her kill him simply because he felt pity for her sister? The answer was no, he never could. Quelaag fought to protect her sister, but she felt no pity and did not hesitate to use the citizens of blighttown as egg carriers and food. Her sister deserved his pity, not her. She would do it all again and kill him if he didn't kill her. He could almost say she deserved to get killed after all the lives she destroyed.

So why did it still hurt? Why did it feel like he had done something wrong?

He honestly didn't know.

He needed to stop thinking about this. Maybe losing himself to his memories wasn't such a bad idea right now...

* * *

"Stupid Familiar!" Louise gritted her teeth and scowled, whispering some choice words to herself, "I told him to stay in the room and get some sleep. Of course he doesn't listen to me."

The reason for her annoyance wasn't solely based on the fact that her Familiar disobeyed her, but because she was now forced to run around the cold campus in nothing but her nightclothes and a thick cloak covering her.

She could've let it go and stayed in her room, but something in her gut was telling her that if she didn't find him dand rag him by the ear back to her room he would screw something up and make an embarrassment of himself come the Familiar's day. Personally she wouldn't have cared, but his embarrassment would lead to her embarrassment, meaning she needed to make sure he didn't screw this up. Knowing him, he was already doing something stupid right now.

And as she turned the next corner, she quickly realized she was right.

He was standing there in the field, the rain drenching his entire body. The stupid sword was calling out to him, urging him to go back inside, but he ignored it and continued to look up at the cloudy sky.

"What in the void...?" She stared blankly at him, silently hoping that he would catch on to her presence and come back into the shade on his own volition. He continued to stand there, not making a single sound even as the rain continued to pour down on him from up above. When it became clear to her that this wasn't going to happen, she knew what she had to do.

"I'm going to regret this," Giving an irritated sigh, she tightened her grip on the cloak and ran forward.

On his end, Derflinger was beginning to get irritated. His partner apparently decided to go insane and smash against the wall, his master was coming and was about to yell at both of them, and the rain was starting to drip into the scabbard and make him itch. Oh yes, he was very irritated, and he was going to spend the next few days returning the favor to his irresponsible partner.

"Familiar!" Louise stopped just short of bumping into him and hugged the hood of the cloak to her head. Already she could feel the rain hitting against her bare arms and legs, drawing a cold chill.

"The others were grotesque..." Raziel mumbled, "Why do you stay in this terrible place...?"

"Familiar, look at me!" She grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look at her. He turned to face her, but again he said nothing, just staring blankly at her and continuing to mumble more unintelligible words to himself. He was out of it. Louise did the one thing she knew would always work.

She kicked him right in the stomach.

Raziel made a small sound at the impact before he blinked, "...Master?" He blinked again before his eyes widened slightly in surprise. "What...what is the matter? Is there something you need?" He asked blankly.

"You have the gall to say that even as you're standing in this rain?" She kicked him in the stomach again, and again he ignored the impact, "I **_told_ **you not to wander around starting tonight because you need to be in good health. And what do you do? You stand in the middle of the rain!"

"I do not-"

"And before you say you don't get sick, don't!" She interrupted him hotly, "I don't want to hear any excuses from you, am I understood!" He hesitated slightly before nodding, "Now grab your stupid sword and come with me. You need to get out of this rain."

* * *

A few minutes had passed since they both arrived at the room, and Louise was still seething. Not only had he disobeyed her orders to not leave the room, he practically spit in her face by doing everything he could to ensure he would become sick by the time of the Familiar's Day. She didn't want to get embarrassed in this; it was her chance to prove that her Familiar wasn't a fake.

The fact that he was dripping water onto her floor wasn't helping.

"Familiar, could you tell what exactly you were thinking?" She started, trying and failing to keep her voice calm. Right now she sounded like she was debating whether to blow him up or chuck him out of the window. She was more partial to the latter.

"I was curious," He answered back slowly.

"Curious about what, the rain?" She sniped back sarcastically. She nearly yelled in irritation when she saw him nod at the suggestion, "Oh for Brimir's sake- What are you, a child!?" She stomped up to him and glared, "I gave you one order: To stay in this room starting from now until the beginning of the Familiar's demonstration. But what do you do? You leave and stand in the middle of the rain!"

"..." He looked away.

"And now, there's a really high chance of you getting sick!" She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "I just don't understand it. You were strong enough to beat Guiche with your bare hands and a serving tray, but you act like a fool without any hesitation. How did I get a Familiar like you?" She lamented. Of course, she still remembered how exactly she got him, and it still disturbed her.

"It is unknown to me as well," Raziel replied blankly, "However, I apologize for my actions, regardless of intent. I owe you more than you will ever know, and I intend to pay you back as well."

Louise looked back at him and took a deep, calming breath. She needed to calm down. Yelling at her Familiar served no purpose and they both needed to have a clear head for the Fair. Either one of them choosing not to cooperate would be disastrous, so she was willing to let this slide. For now.

"Haaa, come on, you should dry off before you really do get sick," She grabbed an extra blanket from the laundry basket and threw it over him, "Wipe yourself off first and then we'll talk."

The next couple of minutes were silent, almost unbearably so. Raziel refused to make a single sound, as if worried that his master would yell at him again if he tried; Louise was still trying to calm herself and squash the urge to yell at him; and Derflinger was too irritated by the rainwater that drenched his entire body to even make a joke at either one of their expense.

"There, that's enough," Louise grabbed the blanket from his hands and tossed it back to the laundry basket before turning back to him, "What about your bandages? Your burns might get infected if you leave wet bandages on them. You should probably remove them."

Raziel touched the soggy bandages quickly before nodding, immediately beginning the process of removing the thick strips of cloth. Louise turned around and took a deep breath, trying to steel herself to what she would see. She'd already seen him burnt when she summoned him, but that didn't mean she had to like it anymore than she liked seeing burnt skin in general.

"Master, I am finished."

Taking a last breath, she turned around and came face to face with the grotesque form of-

...

Actually, he didn't look too bad.

His face had lost the bandages, but there wasn't a single trace of the burns that permeated his pale skin when she first saw him. Granted the last time she had actually seen the burns was just after his fight with Guiche, but she had assumed they would take a few more weeks if not months to heal completely. Right now there wasn't a single trace of burnt flesh or any indication that he was burned to begin with.

Louise blinked and rubbed her eyes, as if unsure whether or not she was seeing things. After repeating the process a few more times, she came to the conclusion that it wasn't a mirage or an illusion. He really was healed.

If she were anyone else, she might have called him attractive or even handsome. But the memories of his summoning were still fresh in her mind and she still couldn't help but see the emaciated corpse, walking towards her as the flames continued to lap at its bacl.

"Has it healed already...?" Raziel whispered to himself. Ever since he tried to summon the flames and failed, the wounds had slowly but steadily began healing. Flame's bite from earlier also felt slightly abnormal, but he chose to let it go. Still, he didn't expect the illusion of life around him would recover the damage so quickly.

"Hmm, guess you don't need those bandages anymore," Louise commented wryly, "In any case, your training with Guiche starts tomorrow. You need to put on a performance for the crowd coming, so I expect you to take this seriously. Do I make myself clear?" He nodded, "Good. And my previous instructions still apply: No leaving this room starting today."

With those last words, Louise breathed a weary sigh and trudged back to her bed and tried to get some much needed rest. Raziel looked at his master's sleeping form and shook his head, choosing to sit against the wall on the opposite side of the doors. He wouldn't sleep, so he might as well guard her and make sure nothing came through that door to stab her in her sleep.

Her calm breathing was the only sound that accompanied him.

* * *

Things returned to the norm for the most part after that. The Familiar's day was coming in a few days and classes for the second years were cancelled in favor of more practices and preparation for the day itself. Servants were busier than ever, preparing both decorations and food for the upcoming visitors. Meanwhile, the students who were presenting continued to practice, trying to outdo both their peers and their performance the past few days.

The news had reached them: It was confirmed that both Princess Henrietta and Cardinal Mazarin would attend the Familiar's showing, along with a few minor nobles and General's. The confirmation that the soon to be Queen of Tristain, though she was likely going to be wed to a foreign leader, was coming bolstered the morale of students both male and female.

The males hoped to impress her, others (*coughGuichecough*) even hoping to use her visit as a chance to woo her or get a date out of it. The rumors about the princesses beauty and kindness spread far and wide, and many a noble teen was infatuated with the soon to be crown monarch.

The same went for the females, though many chose to do it out of a sense of duty and pride more than anything else. Many students saw the woman holding the crown as an ideal they hoped to surpass, so their noblesse pride demanded that they do better.

But this wasn't the case for everyone.

Raziel rolled to the left, barely avoiding the Valkyrie's spear as it imbedded into the ground, striking up the dirt and grass in the process. With an annoyed grunt, he grabbed the Valkyrie by the shoulder before pushing it to the ground roughly, loosening its grip on the spear it held. Using the chance, Raziel grabbed the spear and-

"Wait, wait! You're doing it wrong!" Louise reprimanded, "When the Valkyrie strikes, you're supposed to wait for it to get the spear back and fight with it in fair duel."

Raziel rolled his eyes and turned to Guiche, who gave a shrug in response. The three of them were currently in one of the more abandoned courtyards, so it was only the three of them plus Guiche's mole, Verdandi, that occupied the area. Guiche found that he could do little with training Verdandi and hoped that watching Louise train her own Familiar with his Valkyrie's would give him some ideas.

So far it wasn't.

"Master, why must we do this?" Raziel asked for probably the fourth time that day.

"I already told you: We need to put on a show for the judges and a quick fight isn't enough. We need to get their attention, and a long drawn out duel is the best way to do that." She explained patiently again.

And that was where he was lost. Who the abyss wanted a fight to last longer than it needed to? Why waste valuable time taunting an opponent or bowing as 'respect' when you could use that time to win the fight quickly and efficiently? He just didn't understand it.

"Now do it again! The fair is tomorrow and I don't want either of us getting embarrassed."

With a wave of his rose wand, Guiche let a petal fall onto the ground gently before it transformed into another Golem; this time wielding a halberd. With a sigh, Raziel unsheathed Derflinger and prepared for another 'duel'.

* * *

Raziel was restless that night. Louise was sleeping like a baby, no doubt making sure she was well rested for tomorrow. But Raziel was couldn't sleep - wouldn't sleep. When he walked around the campus he at least had something to distract himself when the weariness came. But now that he was forced to sit here every night with nothing to do, he quickly found himself hating his predicament.

His master had attended some kind of welcoming march to greet some upcoming new visitor earlier, but he was still training with the Golem and he couldn't attend. All he knew was that she was much more cheerful when she came to get him later.

Derflinger wouldn't talk to him, still annoyed by the fact that he had been ignored in favor of rain and brooding on misplaced guilt. So he had to spend every night staring at the door in the vain hope that something would distract him from this mindnumbing trial of patience. He took a little solace in the fact that his impromptu imprisonment would end the next day, but it was of little comfort right now.

Sighing, he stood up from his place on the floor and stretched - Just before he heard footsteps coming from outside. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, relying entirely on his hearing.

He could hear soft taps on the floor outside, getting closer and closer with every second that passed. Warily, he glanced at his master's sleeping form; she wasn't expecting anyone, which could only mean the person that hoped to see her was coming here without her consent.

He nearly grabbed for Derflinger before he stopped himself. After the fight with Guiche, his master explicitly told him to avoid killing someone unless he was absolutely sure that they were an unrepentant threat. He pointed out how impractical this was to her and that it would be pragmatic to kill anyone who attacked them first, but she told him to shut up and deal with it.

Nodding to himself, he quietly walked over to the right side of the door and placed himself against the wall. Whoever opened that door wouldn't see him once the door blocked him and he would be able to drag them out quickly.

The door opened slowly and a figure walked in. Raziel looked closely; the cloak made it hard to tell what their gender and even build was, so he would have to risk himself slightly if he wanted to capture them without waking up either Derflinger or his master. If capturing them wasn't an option then he could always snap their neck and dump the body outside the window.

The figure walked quietly, not a single footstep making a sound as they walked ever closer to his master's bed. From the cloak, a dainty hand covered in white cloth reached out and gently nudged the coverings on the bed. The figure looked at Louise and reached out a hand before stopping and pulling back, as if recoiling at the idea of contact.

That was his chance. Bounding over to the figure quickly, it took him no time at all to slam his hand against their mouth and another against their neck.

"Who are you?" He whispered. Rather than respond, the figure - who he could now identify as female - struggled against him and tried to give out a muffled scream, "Stop your struggling or I will snap your neck and throw your body over that window." He nudged his head to the left, indicating the wide window.

Immediately her struggles ceased. Raziel could feel her shivering; fear most likely. Many would have called him cold or remorseless for throwing such threats lightly, but in the end it made sense. Death was never a permanent thing, not in his land. Even if the woman was a true mortal, Undead would take her soon enough and she would find herself resurrecting at the nearest bonfire. Threats of death were the norm, not the exception.

"We will walk out of the room quietly and you are going to answer my questions. Do you understand me?" He asked. She nodded once. Her breathing had gotten more intense and her heartbeat increased, but she was cooperating.

He wasn't used to this: The sneaking and interrogating. But there times in his distorted memory that he could see that he did indeed use this, if only to threaten or scare someone into answering questions without killing them. He remembered doing it one to Patches in order to get information, but that was the most clear remembrance he had of using it. He was guessing on patchwork information.

Ever so slowly they walked to back to the entrance, their legs colliding multiple times and nearly tripping each other in the process. Eventually however Raziel managed to drag her back to the empty hallway and close the door behind him.

As soon as he did, he removed his hand from the figure's mouth and pushed her against the wall. She shivered again, but marginally less so than before. She was keeping her fear contained, Raziel noted, though she was doing a bad job at it.

She spoke first, "Who...Who are you?" The voice was young, possibly as young as his master. Now that he could see her, he realized that she wasn't even a woman; still a girl barely past her teens like Reah was. A twinge of regret enveloped him before he pushed it down. Just because she was young didn't mean she wasn't dangerous.

"A monster," He replied flatly.

"Please don't take me for a fool. Even if you did threaten to kill me, you are a man not a monster," She replied back, "Please understand that I would naturally be curious as to what a male would be doing at this time of night at my friend's abode."

"Friend?" Now that got his attention. What kind of friend would sneak into his master's room without telling her? "You...do not lie..." He finally said after a moment of silence. He could tell liars and those who spread falsehood. After his past dealings with Patches, Kaathe and Frampt he learned some of the signs one needed to look for if they wanted to find a liar. She had none of the signs.

"No, please believe me that I would never wish harm on Louise," Again, no signs of falsehood. She was telling the truth, "It has simply been so long since I've seen her and I was hoping to talk to her before the start of the Familiar's day tomorrow."

Raziel looked her up and down again before releasing his grip on her. She wasn't lying. That meant that she really was he friend, "I apologize for mistreating you in any way. Master will be furious with me."

The figure took a few seconds to catch her breath before she pulled the hood of the cloak of her face. What met Raziel's gaze was a girl, barely a woman. Chestnut brown hair that ended just above her shoulders, complemented by a fair and what some would call pretty face. Her eyes were a weird shade of blue; an odd color he rarely saw before. But given his master's own reddish eyes, it was probably the norm here.

But there was something familiar about her...

"Oh no, it was my fault for sneaking into her room without permission," She shook her head and flashed a dry smile, "Perhaps now would be the time for introductions? It is never too late to be civil after all."

"As you wish," Raziel nodded, "I am currently under my Master's command. You can call me Raziel, or Familiar as is the case with my master."

"Familiar? Now that is an odd thing to call someone," She mused aloud, "Oh, and I should introduce myself as well: My name is Henrietta de Tristain, but please call me Henrietta for now. Formalities are hard to avoid and I'd rather not deal with it any more than needed."

Tristain? That was an odd surname. Normally surnames came from the place of birth: Solaire of Astora, Siegmeyer of Catarina, Lautrec or Carim. Even his master and Siesta followed this naming convention: Louise de la Valliere and Siesta of Tarbes. But why would her name encompass the entire country they stood on? Odd.

"Do you still wish to see my master? If you are a friend then she would be happy to see you." He asked, trying to distract himself from the topic.

"Yes, I would be glad to if it was possible," Henrietta gave a radiant smile, "It has been a long time since I've seen my friend, Louise."

Raziel led her to the room, this time without being against her will. As soon as the door closed behind them, Raziel made his way to his master's side and gently shook her shoulders, "Master, there is someone here to see you."

Louise's face scrunched in annoyance before she turned away from him, mumbling something incoherent under her breath. Henrietta giggled at the reaction while Raziel sighed. His master often did this after she stayed up too late studying or if she was generally feeling lazy. Usually she would yell at him afterwards like it was his fault she chose not to wake up.

"Master, there is someone here to see you," Raziel repeated, shaking her shoulder harder.

"Mmmm...who is it?" She answered, stuffing her face into the pillow, "Unless its the Princess of Tristain then they're not important enough."

For some reason, Henrietta giggled even louder at that. Raziel turned back to her briefly before rolling his eyes and shaking her shoulder again, "A friend of yours came to visit. She said her name was Henrietta."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he find himself topping onto the floor. His master had stood up abruptly, knocking him over to the floor with surprise. Shaking his head slightly to get rid of the motion sickness, he looked up and saw something he never thought he would see: His master was bowing and apologizing.

"Y-Y-Your highness, I am so sorry for not preparing more for your visit!" Another bow, "If I had know that you would come visit then I would have prepared more and-"

"It's alright, Louise. Please calm yourself," Henrietta held up a hand to silence her panicking friend, "I came to visit you abruptly in the dead of night, so you could hardly fault yourself for being caught off-guard. I am the one who should be apologizing for intruding on you."

"Please don't say that!' Louise protested, "I am your humble servant and it is shameful of me to not prepare more for your arrival. I only wish that-"

It was at this point that Raziel decided to tune out the conversation in favor of staring out the window. He could still hear them, but it was like they were going on a loop: His master apologizing and then his master's friend saying it was okay and that it was her fault and not his masters.

But the new girls appearance still bothered him. He could've sworn he saw her before, he just couldn't recall where...

"Please, Louise, calm yourself. I wished to see my old friend and I did not come here to hear her place blame on herself for not preparing for an unexpected visit."

"You...you honor me, Your Highness," Louise took a calming breath and bowed again, "I am honored that you would remember someone such as me and coming to a humble place such as this, no less!"

"Please, Louise, don't talk like that. Do you not remember the says when we played together on the garden? We used to climb the trees and chase the butterflies all over the field. We even fell into the river once as I recall." Henrietta giggled.

"Yes, the maids and butlers got so mad at us," Louise reminisced, "Father and Mother yelled at us afterwards, saying that it wasn't proper for ladies to run around in the mud and chase insects."

Henrietta shook her head in amusement, "Afterwards we even fought on who started it. We pulled on each others hair and got into even more trouble when the chamberlains found use knee deep in dirt and mud."

Raziel heard the conversation and raised an eyebrow curiously. So despite his master's posturing, she wasn't above doing things like getting herself dirty or picking fights with others.

"Your Highness, as glad as I am to see you, what are you doing visiting this humble abode?" Louise cut off before she got too caught up in reminiscing, "

"Why? I just wanted to see a friend," Henrietta replied, looking down sadly, "The Cardinal and other Aristocrats are staying around me now that there are rumors of me taking the crown in my mother's place. All of them wearing friendly faces and smiling at me, but I know they're lying. I needed someone to talk to, someone to open up with. It was selfish of me."

"No! I understand your predicament, Your Highness. It is just that I am...surprised that you would even remember me," Louise remarked, twiddling her thumbs nervously, "The last time we met was over 3 years ago. I had assumed you would have forgotten about me by now."

Another thing Raziel learned tonight was that the nobility had a flair for the dramatic. He had already seen Guiche and his flamboyance, but he had simply assumed that he was a special case or that he was an extreme version. Now that he had seen these two, however, he came to the conclusion that it must've been ingrained into their system somehow. Perhaps the weird magic they used had something to do with it.

"Forget about you? Never!" Henrietta replied, indignant, "The days we spent together were some of the happiest in my life. I would never forget about them, especially now in these trying times."

"Your Highness..." Louise looked at Henrietta sadly. Rumors of her engagement to Germania's king were already spreading amongst the nobility and Louise could hardly imagine it. Being forced to marry a man over twice her age ruling over a country that stood against Brimir and his teachings on magic and nobility. The rumors of Albrecht the III and his ascension to the throne were unpleasant, and it was widely understood that they were even toned down.

"Ah, but perhaps it is because you were in the middle of something else?" She shook her head and forced herself to smile, "Were you perhaps spending time with your lover? If so, I could go."

It took a few moments for Henrietta words to register in Louise's mind. But once they did, her reaction was instant. "Lovers!? With him!? Never!" She pointed at the stoic Undead and shook her head rapidly, "He is my Familiar; nothing more and nothing less!" She internally gagged. The idea of being his lover was absurd. It would be like Kirche dating her salamander...though she wouldn't exactly put it past her for the Germanian drop-out to try and do that at some point.

"Your Familiar? He said that you called him that earlier but I simply assumed it was a nickname. He is truly your Familiar?" She asked.

"Yes. Though he has the appearance of a human, there is no doubt that he is my Familiar. The runes on his hand are proof of the connection we share as master and servant," She explained, turning towards him, "Familiar, come here and pay your proper respect to her highness."

Raziel nodded and walked over to his master, standing next to his bowing master, "We have already met earlier." He clarified.

"You did?" Louise could feel dread rising up from the pit of her stomach, "Your Highness, I apologize for anything my Familiar may have done!" She turned to Henrietta and bowed abruptly, "If he offended you or hurt you in any way, I take full responsibility for-"

"No, it's alright, Louise," Henrietta raised both hands in a gesture of peace, "Nothing happened between us. We simply introduced ourselves to one another and he allowed me to visit you. Isn't that right, Mr. Familiar?" She smiled.

She was lying, Raziel could tell that much. But why would she? "Yes, it is exactly as she said," Raziel agreed. If she was going to lie to his master then it was none of his business to confront her about it.

"Oh, that's a relief," Louise sighed, "Familiar, make sure you show proper respect and bow to the princess. If you haven't done so yet then make sure to do it now. Its only proper etiquette."

Raziel nodded again before the words reached his ears. Princess. She said princess, didn't she? She did. And she said it with such respect and veneration.

He could already feel anger taking him again. His blood boiled, his mind going into tangents of rage. Princess, the damnable word that he hated the most next to "God". Princess Gwynevere, both the illusion and the reality, he hated them both. The illusion was trick by Gwyndolin used in order to trick people with the false hope that they had a great destiny. The real one abandoned Anor Londo once it became clear that her power was consolidated. She might as well have been the one to pull Lordran into darkness and despair.

And now he was told to bow to a human princess?

His brows furrowed and he pressed his lips together. It wasn't much, but his displeasure was shown well enough, "...No." He stood up to his full height and stepped back, "I refuse to bow."

Louise stared at him, completely at a loss for words. That was the first time her Familiar had actually defied her to her face. He had broken orders a few nights ago, but he at least had the decency to be ashamed and apologize about it. But now he was blatantly defying her in front of her childhood friend.

"This isn't a request, Familiar. I order you to bow to her!" Louise ordered again.

Raziel glared at Louise; a gaze full of hatred that the young pinkette could've sworn her heart skipped a beat when she looked into his yellow irises. Without saying another word, he turned around abruptly and left the room, slamming the door behind him loudly. Both princess and student stood there in awkward silence before Louise realized exactly what happened.

She wasn't happy.

"That-That Familiar **_dares_ **to disobey again!? I will-"

"Louise, please, calm yourself," Henrietta grabbed her shorter friend by the shoulders and held her in place, "He must have his reasons for his actions; all of do. But please, I didn't come here to force obedience. I came to talk to you. Can you please indulge me in my selfish request?"

Louise took a deep breath to calm herself. The princess was here and she wasn't acting properly. If her mother could see her now, she would have gotten scolded for allowing others to see her temper, "Yes, I apologize, your highness. Is there something you wish to talk about then? I would be happy to assist."

"This isn't a mission, Louise. I simply wish to talk about the past, to forget the trials we face today..." A look of sadness passed through her face again, "I will come again in a few days to ask for your help, but for now, could we put formality behind us and talk like old friends once again? It is something I need more than anything right now."

Louise gave one last glance at the door before nodding at the princesses' request. Her friend was troubled and she would be there for her.

* * *

"Void and damnation!" Raziel cursed to himself, taking deep and unnecessary breaths to calm himself. He did not expect to see a princess again, especially not here. When he observed the nobility, he assumed that they were the highest in their caste and that there were no more above them. But evidently he was wrong.

He wandered around the school again, no destination in mind. He just wanted to get away, to forget that he was ordered to bow to someone who held power on life in her fingertips. Power corrupted; there was no way around it. No matter how much she tried to pretend to be nice to his master, she wouldn't hesitate to put her life ahead of everyone else. Those who held power had a high opinion of themselves.

He would never bow to someone like that, not again. He would never allow his naivete to override everything he knew.

"Mr. Familiar?"

"Huh?" Raziel turned to the source of the voice and found Siesta standing there, looking at him with an unsure gaze, "Siesta, is something the matter?" He chose not to question how she managed to sneak up on him without his notice. Most likely it was because he lost focus due to his anger.

"Oh, it is you," She smiled, "I'm sorry, I had a bit of a hard time recognizing you without the bandages in your face," She shook her head and giggled, "Kind of crazy, I know. I haven't seen you the past few days."

Right. Since the servants had been told to prepare for the upcoming Familiar's fair, she'd been busy along with everyone else in setting up for the event. Raziel himself was too busy training and spent most of his time he had trailing behind his master or stalking his prey - he meant trying to see if he could talk to the blue dragon again. He had just the thing to get over his phobia.

"What are you doing here?" Raziel asked.

"I think that she should be my question," She crossed her arms and faked a stern look, "What are you doing so close to the dining hall? Are you planning to do something Ms. Valliere wouldn't approve of? Please don't. We just finished putting the final touches on the decorations."

He was near the dining hall? He was wandering around so much he didn't even realize, "Ah, sorry...I was thinking."

"It's alright, I'm just kidding," She smiled again, "Why are you wandering around? I thought you already knew your way around here? Oh, you must be nervous about the Familiar's day, aren't you?"

"...Something like that," He lied. He certainly didn't want to tell her he was out here because he refused to follow his master's orders.

"Well, don't worry so much!" She patted him on the back lightly, "After everything that's happened the past two weeks, putting on a small demonstration should be easy for you. Truth be told, I'm kind of excited for tomorrow."

"Why?"

"This is my first time seeing something like this," Siesta replied, "When I came here a few months ago, the Familiar's fair was already over. So I'm excited; its something new that I've never seen before. My family would be happy to see it, too."

Raziel nodded. He could understand excitement at seeing the unknown. When he first saw New Londo, with its grand architecture and bright sunlight, it swelled the feeling of hope within him. He felt elation and joy that there was still beauty in the world and that the despair hadn't taken everything. The fact that she thought of her family made him smile as well.

It made it all the more painful when he found out about the deception of the remaining God.

"Mr. Familiar, I don't want to keep you, so I should-"

Siesta turned to leave before a tug stopped her. Raziel was holding onto her sleeve gently and tugging at it, urging her not to go yet, "Could you...tell me more about your family?"

She blinked a few times as she processed the request before nodding with a smile. She didn't want to go to sleep yet anyway.

* * *

The Familiar's Fair was grander than Louise expected. Usually it was a simple demonstration to the teachers followed by a bow. But now there was an entire audience of both commoners and nobles alike, likely brought on by the news that both Cardinal Mazarin and Princess Henrietta would both be attending. Last years event was rather lackluster since only a few minor nobles and the imperial messenger showed up. Now with the presence of the next Monarch in line, everyone was in high spirits.

"Clear skies," Raziel mumbled. Louise turned to her Familiar before quickly looking away. She wasn't going to talk to him unless she was giving orders, not after that stunt he pulled with the princess.

Louise smiled. Their talk had lasted until the early morning and yet neither of them talked about anything more about the past and the time they spent together as children. Henrietta also promised to visit her a few days later again in order to ask for her help.

"Remember your training from yesterday," Louise reminded. Raziel scoffed at the way she used the word 'train. It would be more accurate to call it nonsense, "And make sure not to end the fight too quickly. We need to give the audience a show."

With that last word of 'advice', both master and servant waited till their time came. Louise was trying to calm herself, taking deep breaths and mumbling comforts to herself as she tried not to think on what could go wrong. Raziel was content to watch proceedings.

He had to admit: It was amazing. A chubby bow called his owl and ordered it to go through some hoops suspended in the air; a boy with glasses had a wolf who weaved through the crowd, earning him both cheers and laughter; the blue haired girl called Tabitha was the most impressive, however, riding her dragon through the air and performing flips and spins that Seath wished he could do.

And before he knew it, it was their turn.

"And now for Ms. Valliere and her...interesting Familiar!"

Louise took a last deep breath before walking towards the stage, Raziel trailing behind her. As soon as she Louise stepped up onto the stage, she could feel her confidence plummet: The crowd was looking at her expectantly, some already pointing fingers at Raziel. She couldn't blame them; having a human as a Familiar was unheard of.

In the judges table she could see Henrietta smiling at her and urging her to go on. With a small nod, she swallowed her nervousness and began to address the crowd, "My Familiar may appear to be an ordinary human, but he is much more than meets the eye, " She began, "He is a master swordsman and possesses more strength than the average man!"

The crowd didn't buy it. Many of them had skeptical looks on their faces and others even laughed.

"He shall prove it now in a duel against a Golem made from the earth itself." Louise continued, trying to ignore the snickers from the crowd.

From behind the stage, Guiche's Valkyrie bounded up the steps and took its place opposite Raziel. The crowd's murmurs stopped, observing the Golem's design and make. It wasn't a fake or an illusion; he was actually going to fight a Golem.

"If you believe that it is a fake, then you can step onto the stage and verify for yourself," She waited a few moments but not a single one raised a complaint. They could tell it was solid enough, "Well then, could both of them bow and prepare for the duel to start."

Raziel gave an annoyed grunt and unsheathed Derflinger, throwing a bow in the process before standing up straight and placing Derflinger at his side. The construction did the same thing, mimicking his stance and posture. His master insisted that he stand up straight and not to bend his back, but fighting like this was impractical at best. His lack of shield also worried him and she had forbidden him from stealing any more trays.

"Let the duel begin!"

Raziel ran forward and struck at the Golem with deliberate slowness. It raised up its own sword and blocked his, pushing him back somewhat with its strength. Gritting his teeth, Raziel dodged back from the clash and held Derf with both hands. Just like he practiced.

The crowd began to pay attention, others making bets on who would win. Though humans were smarter, a Golems hardiness and willingness to keep going despite injuries meant the average warrior would always lose. None of them were warriors so none of them could tell the entire thing was scripted.

They ran towards each other again. The Golem gripped the sword and made a rising cut; a hit that would destroy his armor if it it. Raziel quickly rolled to the side, barely dodging the strike and making the Golem miss.

It was practiced. First they would clash, then the golem would try to hit him, and then he would try to hit the Golem. This continued on for a while, and at times one of them would hit the other and the crowd would get excited that one of them would win. Raziel hated it, but it was his master's orders and he would obey her.

But they made a mistake. The last part of the deception was simple: The Valkyrie would put the sword against his neck and he would be forced into a standstill. And just when the crowd thought he would lose, he would push the Golem away and impale him with Derflinger, therefore ensuring his 'victory'. There was just one problem.

He had dropped Derflinger.

The Valkyrie had made a mistake in its trajectory and smashed his hand with the blade painfully; if he weren't undead, he would have been bleeding profusely. Unfortunately, it continued its orders and now he was held up against the stage wall, the blade nearly digging into his neck while Derflinger was tossed off to the side somewhere.

The crowd was ecstatic. To them they were watching a show. None of them realized that they'd made a mistake and now they had no way out of it.

He could see his master sweating, mumbling something under her breath and making vague hand-signs for him to do something.

There was only one thing that came to mind. Chastising himself internally that he was going to regret this later, he grabbed the Valkyrie's sword in his left palm and started dragging it away from his neck. Both the crowd and his masters eyes widened; evidently none of them had been expecting him to hold the sword's blade in his bare palm.

"Enough," With another blast of effort, he pulled the blade harder and smiled as a satisfying snap met his ears: The blade had been snapped, split cleanly in half. The Valkyrie stared at the remains of its blade long enough for Raziel to smash the piece he held in his hands to its midsection and kicking it to the floor. It made a vain effort to stand up again, but Raziel grabbed the blade it held and smashed it against its faceplate. It lied still.

There was a moment of silence before the crowd cheered. Regardless of what they thought, there was simply no way they could fake breaking a sword; especially given the fact that it was durable and solid just a few moments before.

Louise bowed, a radiant smile on her face. She had prayed not to get embarrassed. She didn't expect cheers from the crowd; cheers for her and her Familiar. Henrietta flashed her another smile, mumbling a congratulations at her. She had felt proud to call herself a Valliere.

And then it was gone in instant.

A loud explosion resounded all around them. Cheers turned to screams as another explosion rang out, destroying a section of the wall and the the people closest to it. Louise watched in horror as the rocks crushed the people that survived the explosion under its overbearing weight. Red blood flowed from underneath them; the only thing that remained of the people.

The crowd panicked, pushing against one another to try and get to the courtyard's exit. The teachers and knights tried in vain to calm the crowd but in the end it was futile. Panic had overtaken then and they were lashing out.

"Master-" Raziel tried to call out before another explosion shot out: Behind them this time. The Undead lost his balance and fell to the stage floor. The smell of fire and smoke was beginning to overtake his senses. But through it all he could hear laughter. Someone was enjoying this.

"Burn the trees; make sure the fire spreads!" The voice was male, "Make sure the crowd panics: She wanted a distraction, she's going to get one!"

Raziel coughed and tried to focus. He couldn't see much through the smoke: The fire was spreading too quickly for it to be normal. Whoever was spreading the fire was accelerating the process and making sure the smoke covered the area. He could see figures garbed in black weaving through the smoke, setting fire to the trees and even stabbing anyone unlucky enough to see them.

"Master!" Raziel called out. He pushed his way through the smoke to where he last saw her and called out again, "Master, where are you?"

She was gone.

* * *

**Hey guys, I just heard the news of the death of Zero no Tsukaima's author, and I quite honestly feel bummed. Zero no Tsukaima wasn't the best novel I ever read, and there were quite a few times I wanted to smack Louise, but the author put a lot of his heart into the novel and even worked on it as the cancer was eating away at him. Now we're never going to get a conclusion. **

**May he rest in peace.**

**I'll also have to make changes to the story. I originally had two plans: Follow canon with my own changes or start deviating once we get to Romalia. With the death of the author, I have to go with the latter or just abandon the fic outright. **

**Anyway, to answer some questions and then ask one of my own**.

**Xayom - Sorry, I guess I made a mistake.** **What I meant to say was that the CU isn't as strong as _everyone makes him out to be. _The point of the game is that, even if you're strong, its your tenacity that makes you the best player. A lot of people seem to expect the CU to be as strong as the typical game character who slaughters tens of men by sneezing at them. Given that you can get gangbanged by the weak Hollows in the church since they can stunlock you to oblivion, I'm guessing he wasn't meant to evoke that image.**

**I do agree that he's strong, just not "I can take on the entire cast with one hand tied behind my back" strong.**

**Writing in Reverse - Because it doesn't bug him that much. Louise never asked him where he was born or what he did prior to being summoned, so he doesn't make a stink about it. And since he's not critically injured while fighting, he doesn't think wasting an estus is worth it. He regenerates slowly when by himself, like all undead do.**

**Moleman171 - What makes you say that? :D**

**Alright, time for my own question: Should I give Henrietta a Familiar? And before you ask: No, she's not a void mage, so not a human Familiar. I planned to give her a dove at first, given that its the symbol of purity and being caged and whatnot, but then I remembered she's a water mage. So now I'm stuck. Should I give her a Familiar? If so, do you guys have any suggestions on what it should be? I'm open to suggestions.**

**Lastly, I know some of you might be wondering why romance is in one of the tags: It's not for Raziel, but for Julio. Raziel may or may not get into a romance, but Julio has one with either Josette or Louise depending on how the story develops. **

**That's it for now. Tune in next time for a crappy fight scene!**


	11. Shattered Innocence AKA Happy Fun Time

**Another new chapter out. Not much to say now: Got a cold and a huge headache, so I'm writing this chapter while I'm barely focused. Hopefully I can remember everything.**

* * *

Smoke and ash everywhere. Raziel scowled and waved his free hand and tried to unsuccessfully disperse the smoke. Something was wrong - The smoke was spreading too fast and when he shifted his hand through it, it refused to move. Someone was artificially enhancing the smoke to make it harder for everyone to see. Was this another form of their damnable sorcery?

"Master," He called out. Where in the abyss was she? He couldn't see through the smoke, "Master, please state where you are," He called out again. Smoke entered his mouth with every word spoken, but it barely fazed him. He thanked the brand in his neck quietly. He was capable of breathing just as much as the next human, but it wasn't actually a necessity. It was the only reason he still had all his faculties.

This was ultimately what outed the Undead among normal humans. They could mimic all they want, but in the end things like breathing or eating wasn't required of them. The church of Thorolund used this as a "justification" to brand them as demonic imprints that had no place in the cycle of life and death. To normal people they were abominations, regardless of how they looked or acted.

Warily he stood up, blinking his eyes to try and see better. He looked to the right and started feeling the ground; even if he didn't need to breath he still needed to see, and the smoke was impeding his vision heavily. He needed to find Derflinger - Being unarmed in a situation like this certainly didn't sound very appealing.

"Hey, partner, you out there?" Derf's voice was coming from the right, "Hey, is this part of the little act too or what? Pinky didn't say anything about explosions and smoke everywhere. Kinda beats the whole point of a sword duel if she planned to this at at the start."

Raziel felt around the ground for a few more minutes before making contact with the familiar grip of Derf's hilt. Nodding to himself slightly, he stood up from his crouched position and fastened Derf back to his old position. At least he wasn't unarmed now.

"Hey, there you are," Derf quipped sarcastically, "You have any idea what's going on? Reminds me of the time I was serving under that minor noble. Heh, guy got his ass shot off in the middle of the battlefield and ran into a group of fire mages on the run back. Dunno how he survived that; must've been blessed or something."

"Please focus," Raziel reprimanded lightly, "Are you able to see through this fog? Master is gone and I cannot find her."

"Huh? Partner, I'm the sword not the swordsman. If you can't see anything, why do you think I can?" He gave an annoyed click, "Damn, a sword isn't built for things like this. Can you hear anything? All I'm getting is a lot of screaming and explosions. Can't fight something you can't see, you know?"

"Agreed," Raziel shook his head in irritation and closed his eyes. If he couldn't rely on his sight, then he would rely on his hearing. Just like the tomb of the giants...except it smelled better.

He couldn't hear much. Like Derflinger said, the sounds of fire and yelling dominated the air more than anything. He could also hear voices, but most of them were the screams of panicking students and visitors. Between the yelling and fire, he could make out the vague sounds of a calm voice and laughter. But unlike before, the voice sounded garbled; like it was being blocked by something. He needed to focus.

"Cesare, the mages we were given are doing their job." This was a voice he didn't recognize, "The smoke means that anyone except other wind mages won't be able to see or breath through the smoke."

It was a smart plan. Normally a commoner couldn't beat a mage, but what if the mage was crippled? Without eyesight, without breath, a mage was as vulnerable as any other human being. And being attacked in the middle of a festival meant that their guard was down, ensuring that they wouldn't be able to mount a proper counterattack. Like lambs to the slaughter.

All the students panicked, running to the nearest exit or teacher. The teachers themselves were too busy trying to keep the situation under control and were unable to fight back as the smoke engulfed the area, except for the few wind mages who managed to make air bubbles around everyone they could so no one would choke. Earth, Fire, Water - All useless now that they couldn't see or fight without losing their breath.

"Ah, but we were paid for a full distraction," The same voice from before, apparently named Cesare, "And I say we should honor our agreement. How many mages were we lent again?"

"Ten mages, Cesare," The other replied, "Many of them are actively spreading the smoke while the others are accompanied by our comrades. Are there orders you wish to relay to them?"

"Yes: Kill any Knights and Wind Mages you find," A chuckle followed the instructions, "They're the only ones here who can disrupt the plan, so they will be priority. Afterwards kill the students and teachers; we can't take risk of them dispelling the smoke. I will see if I can find our Royal Highness and the Dear Cardinal. They will fetch a great price for anyone wishing to have them."

"At once."

The voiced ceased. Raziel concentrated again, trying to figure out where they came from. The two people talking were calmer than everyone else and one of them was relaying orders. He knew what was going on. He was the key to this. But to find him he needed to find his master first. Finding him would be pointless if he found out his master died.

But something he said brought out an unpleasant notion. He said a distraction, so all this - this fire and death - was simply to distract from someone else. He dreaded to know what kind of person ordered this. Whoever they were, they were willing to spread utter chaos and make so much Undeath just to keep attention off them.

"Hey partner, you hear that?" Derf's voice chimed in, knocking him out of his thinking, "Sounds like a tapping sound."

Raziel closed his eyes again. Derflinger was right: On the ground, he could hear soft and rhythmic taps. Softer than the explosions, but louder than the voices...and it was getting closer-

"Partner, look out!" Raziel opened his eyes and backpedaled quickly. Right were he was crouching, a sword had impaled through the wood of the stage, "Damn, nearly got your head cut off there, partner!"

The person who had nearly impaled him was a tall man; taller than he was by a landslide. The armor he wore was a dark leather, masking his figure in the black smoke. On his head he wore a helmet covering his entire face which, unknown to Raziel, was enchanted by a wind mage to have a miniature air pocket. He would have had no trouble seeing or breathing through the smoke.

"Partner, something tells me he's not a friend," Derf clicked anxiously, watching as the figure removed the sword from its impalement, "Hey partner, can you see through this smoke? Something tells me you're gonna have to fight."

Raziel didn't answer, trying to focus instead on his unexpected opponent. He was one of the figures in the smoke during the first explosions; no one important, most likely. A lackey who had see him on the stage and expected an easy kill like the panicking people in the crowd. Still, lackey or not, the smoke and armor he wore meant he was at a significant advantage.

The figure rushed forward, attempting another cleaving strike. Raziel rolled to the side and stood up quickly. He could see him while he was attacking, but that was it. The smoke continued to obscure his figure while Raziel himself stuck out because of the bright blue armor he worse. He needed to fight him without relying too much on his eyesight.

...Right. Mentally scolding himself on how horrible this plan was, Raziel took a deep (and unnecessary) breath and closed his eyes. If he couldn't see then he would rely on his hearing, just like earlier.

"The hell...?" The figure muttered, tightening his grip on the longsword. This was new. He never heard of someone closing their eyes to fight before. Still, he wasn't going to complain. If it meant an easy kill for him then so be it. He could even sell the armor afterwards for a bit of extra coin.

Raziel focused. He could hear the tapping again - footsteps - coming from his front. He could hear it: The clicking of the leather as it hit the wood of the stage; his opponent breathing through the helmet; and the intensity of the sound getting stronger as he got closer. He would be upon him soon and he only had one chance at this, so he couldn't afford any mistakes.

The figure continued to rush forward, raising the sword above his head. This was almost too easy! He smiled underneath his helmet, eliciting a weird chuckle. An easy kill was always his favorite.

_'He stopped,' _Raziel tightened his grip on Derflinger and dodged to the side. The sounds of a sword smashing against the wood resounded again. Raziel opened his eyes and slashed down to the right. The feeling of flesh and leather hitting against the blade signified that he had hit his target. Pulling Derflinger back, he raised his arms and gave another downward slash.

The figure was silent, unable to choke back the blood as it cascaded from his mouth. Impossible. The armor had been torn through like paper and his wounds were too deep. Too strong, there was no way for a normal human being to be strong enough to ignore his armor and wound him like this.

Following up on his attack, Raziel grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him in, "Argh!" More blood stained his dark helmet. Raziel had impaled him, stabbing Derflinger through his stomach. He felt the life leave his opponents body and the familiar feeling of souls entering his. He was dead. Raziel gave an annoyed grunt and kicked his body to the floor. Just dead weight now.

"That was...easy," He looked down at his dead opponent, grimacing slightly at the crimson blood staining the wooden material. His opponent was way too fragile. Was he not an Undead? He excreted blood from his wounds like normal humans did, so that meant he was still a mortal. Undead were naturally stronger than average human beings, but that rarely factored in since the normal opponents he fought were always Undead.

Another reason why they were feared. Even the lowest Hollow could match a trained swordsman in sheer strength alone if nothing else. Against human opponents, Undead were massively stronger and so those who wished them harm had to rely on sheer numbers or experience alone to see them through.

Thinking back on it, 'Cesare' mentioned that no one should be able to breath through the smoke. That would have been impossible if anyone here was an Undead That meant that everyone here was alive - Truly alive. Raziel looked down at his left hand: Stained with crimson blood and one rune glowing. His opponents, His master, Siesta, that princess he threatened to kill. All of them were mortal, not like him. They weren't monsters.

"...Haha..." He laughed. He couldn't help it; it was so ironic. He treated death like it was so simple, like everyone here could just ignore it like he did. But they couldn't. They were alive, and none of them would want to be placed in the same circumstances as him. He was a fool. He would have been a murderer here.

In Lordran, concepts like 'Killer' or 'Murderer' didn't exist. Everyone who went there was already dead, so taking a life there was treated as an everyday thing rather than a rare occurrence. But in the realm of the living, they still tried to uphold such laws. Gwyndolin tried to pretend he and his Darkmoon blades upheld such values, but in the end it was just a mask for his own intentions. He had grown so used to killing that he thought little of taking life.

"Hey partner, you alright?" Derf asked, trying to ignore the blood on his hilt. It felt horrible, "I'm sensing some magic off to the right somewhere; must be the students here. You wanna check it out. Better plan than staying here waiting for another guy to attack us.

"Sense?" Raziel asked curiously.

"Huh? Yeah, guess I forgot to mention that," Derf chuckled, "I'm a magic sword, partner, meaning I do more than just talk. I can sense magic being cast and point you to it. Real useful, huh?" Raziel nodded despite himself, "See? Aren't you lucky to have me? Come on, just follow my directions and you can get through this smoke."

Raziel looked down at the body one last time. It didn't disappear like most Undead; he wasn't going to end up in a bonfire. He had killed a living human and it was easy. The blood on his hands began to harden and he twitched irritably. He didn't need to feel guilty; it was kill or be killed here. So what if he was human? Mortal or not, they were enemies.

"...Lets go."

* * *

"Princess...please hurry!"

Louise tightened her grip on Henrietta's wrist and pushed forward, using her free hand to cover her mouth and nose from the smoke. She was already beginning to feel lightheaded from the toxic air and her vision began to swim with every strained breath she took. Blinking in irritation, she shook her head and tried to clear the fuzzy spots from her sight. She couldn't faint here, not now.

When the explosions first started, she jumped from the stage and ran to Henrietta's side. There was no logical reason for it; she had enough Knights to protect her and didn't need her help. But she did it anyway, running to her friends side based on instinct alone. She wanted to see that she was safe with her own two eyes. She wouldn't have been satisfied otherwise.

"Louise, please, you're hurt," Henrietta shook off Louise's shaky grip and placed her arm around her shoulder, "You're too weak to run by yourself. Please let me support you."

It was just the two of them now. Her Knights were gone;separated due to the sudden panic and picked off one by one by the bandits in the smoke. She'd tried to heal them with her water magic earlier but their wounds proved too deep even for magic to heal. That was how Louise found her. And now they were trapped, surrounded by smoke and the screams of everyone around them.

It seemed under control at first. The Knights closest to her and Cardinal Mazarin separated into two groups and separated them; for their safety, as she was assured. When the smoke hit, however, they were easily picked off and it was only Louise finding her that ensured she wouldn't get picked off too. Whether she knew it or not, her friend had saved her.

They didn't know how long they'd been running. 5 minutes, 10 minutes? It felt like an eternity. Already Louise was beginning to lose breath and her knees began to wobble. She couldn't walk for much longer like this.

"Princess...please leave me..." She ignored her friend's rambling and continued to walk forward, "This smoke is too thick...can't breath...should it be this hard? I'll slow you down, Princess. Don't worry about me...I'll be fine..."

"Please don't say that," Henrietta stifled a yell as she nearly tripped. This was a nightmare: She couldn't see, she could barely breath, and her friend was becoming delirious. Whispering a prayer under breath, she took a strained breath and used her free hand to remove her shoes. She wouldn't be able to run while wearing the heeled shoes and she needed every moment she could afford.

She needed to heal Louise. Kneeling down, she grasped at the wand at her side and began muttering a basic healing spell and focused. She couldn't do much since she was losing breath herself, but she should be able to ease Louise's pain-

"Well, well. Look what we have here?" From the smoke multiple figures stepped out; all males, wearing dark armor and brandishing swords and daggers. Henrietta felt her heart skip a beat and hugged Louise closer to her. Their blades and armors were stained with blood and she could smell the metallic odor on them even through the smoke. They'd killed people.

"The princess of Tristain all by herself? And look, she brought a friend," He made a lax gesture, eliciting a laugh from his comrades, "Who thought it would be this easy? Somebody should call Cesare and tell him to stop looking. We did his job for him." Another round of laughter followed the sarcastic comment. Henrietta bit her tongue to keep herself from yelling her anger. She needed to stay calm.

"What do you want?" She chanced a look down at her friend and muttered another prayer; she had fainted already, "If its me you're searching for then please leave my friend alone. She has suffered enough and needs help."

She wasn't a fool. While she didn't run the country and was a simple tool for political marriage as far as many were concerned, that didn't stop her from being valuable. Anyone who managed to kidnap the daughter of the Queen would gain enough money to last them for a dozen lifetimes. It was the main reason she was so closely guarded and why a Cardinal was teaching her the ways of royalty at such a young age.

"Typical Princess: Making demands when she's not in any position to," Another laugh. She was beginning to get tired of that already, "I don't think you're in any position to make demands here, Your Highness," He made a mock bow, "In fact, I think Cesare will reward me if we bring you to him ourselves," He turned to his compatriots, "What do you say, men? Up for an extra reward?"

They all nodded, unfastening their weapons from their holsters. Henrietta gripped her wand again and began to incant a spell, drawing from the power of water. She couldn't hold all of them off but she needed to buy as much time as she could. She wouldn't let Louise die here.

Another explosion rang out: This time in front of her. The Bandit's smiles were instantly replaced by surprised screams as their armor caught fire and they were blown through the air from the impact. Henrietta watched, half in horror as their screams reached her ears and half in relief as she realized that she had just been saved. She knew it was improper, but she couldn't help but not care whether they lived or not.

"Are you all right?" Kirche coughed and gasped when she saw Louise's unconscious form, "Is that Valliere? You know what, nevermind. Just follow me. Tabitha made an air pocket but she can't move because its too wide. Just follow me and you'll be safe."

Henrietta nodded and took hold of Louise's arms again, "Th-Thank you- Look out!"

One of the bandits grinned, raising his dagger and preparing to snap at Kirche's spine. She was naive; that explosion wasn't enough to kill any of them. Perhaps she did it on purpose to try and ease her conscience - A mistake he wasn't going to make. Henrietta raised her wand to mutter a counterspell but it was already too late. Nothing was going to stop him now!

"Talking sword coming through!"

Or so he thought. Kirche stared in disbelief as Raziel tackled the bandit onto the ground, struggling briefly with the larger male before cutting his neck with Derflinger's rusted blade. Both Princess and Student flinched as the blood sprayed onto the grass. Raziel gave a small sigh; some of the blood had spurted onto his face and mouth. He decided then and there that he didn't like that taste.

"Hey, where were you?" Kirche asked, eerily calm despite what he'd just did, "I was wondering why Valliere was by herself. Its a Familiar's job to protect their master, don't forget that." Raziel declined to comment that, despite her reminder, Flame was nowhere to be found. There was probably a reason for that.

"Is master alright?" Raziel asked.

"Yes, but she's fainted," Henrietta breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the hostility he had shown her last night, he was a welcome sight compared to the bandits from earlier, "Louise's friend was about to lead us to safe place. Please come with us."

Kirche was about to rebuke that she wasn't Louise's friend before biting her tongue. Now wasn't the time for that, "Yes, all thanks to Tabitha," She smiled, "Come on, we should get going before they wake up-"

A loud noise interrupted her. Another explosion, but smaller this time; a gunshot. Raziel bit back a scream as he felt pain explode in his stomach. Blood and damnation, it was like a firebomb had gone off inside his body! Through pained spasms, he turned around and faced his attacker. The bandit from earlier, smiling and holding a pistol in his bloodied hand. He laughed one last time before blood poured down his mouth and he closed his eyes. A final act of defiance before his death.

It was only after that did the familiar feeling of souls entering his body. He tightened his grip on Derflinger's hilt and resisted the urge to curse. He was so distracted with everything that he even forgot to make sure that the person attacking them was dead. He would have to be more careful from now. Make sure they were absolutely dead before trying again.

"Raziel!" Kirche moved to try and support him before he pushed her away, "That's not a joke! You got hit in the stomach. You're not going to be able to walk properly with that injury."

"I am...fine," It hurt; more than when Guiche's Valkyrie stabbed him but he could still move. That meant he could still fight, "I am...not like you...I will be fine," Talking was difficult and his every movement sent spasms of pain across his stomach and upper body. But already he could could feel the wound slowly but surely healing; a trait he and most Undead shared.

These were human opponents and, whatever that thing was, it was meant to be used against humans. His stomach wasn't pulsating with life: It was as dead and rotted as the rest of his internal organs. The only reason it hurt was because of the force of whatever hit against him, nothing more. Biting back another scream, he did his best to stand up straight.

"Please, we don't have time to argue," Henrietta pleaded, cutting off Kirche's argument. "We can't stay too long in this smoke and Louise has already fainted. Might we continue this argument after we reach safety?"

Kirche bit her lower lip but conceded, directing them both to follow her. Raziel debated whether to carry his master in place of the princess before another spasm of pain discouraged. He didn't like it, but he would have to trust the _Princess_ and hope she didn't decide to abandon his master outright.

* * *

"We're here." Kirche announced, pointing the two of them to a vacant spot of land before darting off in another direction. Must be checking on the other people, Raziel guessed.

"Thank Brimir..." Henrietta took a deep breath, face relaxing as smokeless air entered her nostrils at long last. Without missing a beat, she gently placed Louise on the ground and began to cast a healing spell again, "Louise, please be alright," She closed her eyes and continued to mutter the incantation, praying to Founder Brimir that her friend would be alright. She had risked her life to save hers and death shouldn't be her reward.

Next to her, Raziel sat down on the grass and did his best to ignore the bullet wound in his stomach. What in the abyss was that thing? The bandit didn't even move from his spot or cast a spell and he gave Raziel pain equal to a greatsword being cleaved through his body. Thankfully he had faced worse and he could ignore it for the time being. He just needed to stop breathing; it wasn't like he needed to.

The area around them was surreal. Raziel could make out students and Familiar's bunched together, doing their best to avoid going out of the air bubble's boundaries. All around them, like a magical shield, Raziel could see a wide circular dome made out of air. The smoke from the outside tried to filter in, like a dark energy trying to destroy the dome.

Apart from the people, the only physical objects on the field were a few hastily made up tents and basins of water being used by some water Mages to heal those who had fainted from the smoke. Raziel shook his head and twitched as the blood on his face began to harden. He still had a hard time believing that he was the only Undead here, but he again was proof that he was. None of these people were the same as him.

"Will Master be alright?" He turned to the princess, doing his best to try and put down any dislike he had for her. She hadn't abandoned his master and she was even healing her, so he could play nice.

"Yes, Louise will be fine," Henrietta gave one last flourish with her wand before smiling in relief, "Her body is smaller than mine so she couldn't take as much smoke, but she did her best. She will be asleep for a few more minutes and then wake up none the worse for wear."

"...Thank you..." He couldn't look at her; she would've seen how he struggled to say those two words. He still didn't trust that anyone with her power would be so selfless, but he needed to put it behind him at least for today. She had saved his master and even carried her through the smoke; more than what Gwynever ever did for her subjects.

"She's a good friend," She placed a hand on Louise's hair and gently straightened it, "She helped me through the smoke and even told me to leave her when she couldn't go any further. I would most likely be dead if not for her," She shook her head to banish the thoughts away before turning to him, "But what about you, Mr. Familiar? You were hit with a gunshot. We should-"

"I will be fine-" He interrupted, raising a hand as a sign of warning, "As I said earlier, I am not like you. I simply need to rest for a moment and then I can leave this place. We cannot stay here forever."

"Regardless, I can use my magic to heal you," She offered.

"No thank you," He shook his head in refusal before standing up again. He gave a small smile at the fact that the spasms of pain were easier to bear than before, "I can walk just fine now."

Louise had told her about this. One of the topics the two friends talked about last night was the fact that Louise had a human Familiar. Louise had told her everything: How her Familiar first came to be, how none of the water mages were able to heal him, how he never ate or slept, how he was able to beat Guiche in a match despite being outnumbered and unarmed. To be honest, she thought her friend was pulling a joke on her at first.

And yet, seeing him now she couldn't deny that there was something eerie about him. Despite the hot environment they were just in, she couldn't see even a hint of sweat on him and his chest barely moved - like he didn't breath. His voice remained flat and emotionless despite the bullet wound on his stomach. And, weirdest of all, the way his injuries could be healed (or ignored) despite the severity of them. Rare had she ever seen anyone take a bullet and act like it didn't matter.

Henrietta would have insisted on doing it regardless were it not for Kirche arriving with her salamander in tow, "You're already moving? I thought you'd be down for a lot longer," Kirche commented, giving a lax smile that Raziel didn't return, "Guess you were right about healing fast. Well, you're safe here as far as Tabitha's concerned. None of the bandits want to attack; guess they're scared now that we can see them."

"Where was Flame?" He asked, eying the large salamander, "He was not with you earlier."

"I sent Flame out to look for other students," Kirche replied, "Salamander's like Flame aren't affected by smoke, so he's the perfect guy to find the students that are still out there. Sylphid and all the flying Familiar's are in the skies looking to see if they can find others and ground Familiar's like Belldandy are digging pathways in the ground so students can get here without wading through the smoke."

Raziel nodded, "Teachers and Servants?" He asked after giving the area another once over. All he could see were students and some of the outside visitors. No Knights either, though he could already guess what happened to them.

"The servants are all inside; they were closest to the buildings and hopefully they locked all the doors before whoever attacked us got in." She shrugged, "The teachers are looking for students and anyone still out there," She pointed at the air barrier around them, "Professor Kaita's the only other Wind Triangle Mage around here and he's leading the search. Tabitha's making the barrier around us right now and can't even move because she needs to concentrate to make a barrier this big. None of the other students here are Triangle class so they can't changer with her. We're stuck here."

"Trapped, more like," Raziel looked gave the barrier a cynical look. The field used for the Familiar's Fair was large: Easily able to hold all the students of the academy and its staff along with visitors and have enough room for everyone to stretch both arms. The panic meant that everyone who ran was scattered across a large field surrounded by nothing but smoke and murderous attackers; both of which would would kill them if they weren't found.

And, based on what Kirche said, this barrier around them was a temporary measure. Unless the smoke receded, then they were essentially waiting to die...again, in his case. Not that it would stick, but he preferred to avoid death as much as possible. The souls he had gotten were still inside him and dying now would mean losing them.

"Stuck, trapped: Whatever you want to call it," Kirche replied, "I have to go out again: Fire mages are the only ones who can breath through the smoke without choking after a few minutes. We're not immune to it, but its better than nothing."

"I am going as well," Raziel unsheathed Derflinger and moved to the end of the barrier before Kirche grabbed his arm.

"Where in the void do you think you're going?" She asked incredulously, "Unless you've forgotten, you just got shot and you're not a Fire Mage. There's no way you can last more than Ten minutes out there without choking to death."

"I will be fine," He was getting tired of saying that, "The wound will do little to impede me and I...have ways to survive the fires," Better to not say out loud that he was an Undead; might cause a panic...even more of one, actually, "The smoke will not go away on its own and waiting here does little to help us. Better to go out there and try to stop it than wait here for death."

Kirche gave him a suspicious glance before looking down at his stomach. No bleeding despite the gunshot and he was standing up straight. Did his armor block the bullet somehow? There was no way for him to naturally survive without medical attention and yet he was standing fine and even arguing with her despite the fact that he was supposed to have a gaping hole in his stomach.

"Fine, but we need to talk to Tabitha first; maybe she can point you in the right direction," She waited for Raziel's nod before turning back to Henrietta, "What about you, Princess? Will you be okay by yourself?"

"O-Oh yes, I'll be fine," She nodded and smiled at the two of them, "I shall see what I can do about helping to heal some of the people here. They must be suffering from both injuries and inhaling the smoke."

With that confirmation, Kirche led Raziel to where Tabitha was. On the way there, Raziel continued to observe his surroundings. It was sad, almost pathetic in a way. The students shivered and muttered comforts to themselves, unable to comprehend the reality of the situation. There were a few of them trying to encourage their fellow students to stand up and be brave, but their efforts were met with rebuttals or ignorance. The majority was content to wait for others to save them despite having power they could call on.

"Tabitha, you still alright?"

Raziel looked to where Kirche was calling out and his eyes widened ever so slightly. Tabitha was standing there, Staff held in both hands and eyes closed, occasionally muttering incantations under her breath. Kirche wasn't exaggerating; she was the only one holding up the air bubble around them. Off to the side he could see Guiche whispering instructions to his pet mole, but apart from him the area around Tabitha was completely bare. No one was helping her.

Tabitha turned towards the two of them and nodded, not even eliciting surprise at Kirche's companion. From his spot, Guiche looked up from Belldandy and gave a wave before turning back to his Familiar. He was scared; Raziel could see his shoulders and hands trembling despite the nonchalant front he put up. But he was doing better than most around here.

The sounds of beating wings reached his ears. Raziel looked up and raised an eyebrow as Sylphid landed next to Tabitha, carrying a few students on her back. Guiche waved his rose wand summoned a few Valkyries; all of which proceeded to help the coughing students off the dragon's back and carry them to the more populated (though not by much) area. So that was why he was here.

"Good," Tabitha reached up a hand and patted Sylphid's nostril, receiving an affectionate cooing in response.

"Still no luck trying to disperse the smoke?" Kirche asked again, only receiving a quiet shake of the head in response, "Damn, this isn't natural. We're in the open air and the smoke stays all around us like a blanket. This shouldn't be happening."

Raziel stared at Sylphid and was hardly surprised when the female dragon stopped cooing and immediately hid her tail behind her when she spotted him. Smiling inwardly, he gripped Derflinger's hilt and anxiously flexed his hands on the handle. He still hadn't given up on getting that precious tail, but he had other things to focus on. She was safe...for now.

"Wind Mages," Tabitha offered. Kirche gave a disapproving shake of the head and cursed under her breath - She already knew that. Some of the other wind Mage students they'd gathered tried to blow away the smoke, but every try was met with failure as the smoke continued to surround them despite their best efforts. It was obvious that the smoke was being kept here to pacify them.

"She is right," Raziel agreed, "I overheard a conversation earlier and they stated Wind Mages lending the attackers assistance," All three of them turned to look at Raziel, "One voice mentioned that there were ten of them and that they are the reason the smoke does not fade. Without the Mages, will we be able to clear the smoke from this field?"

"Possible," Tabitha nodded.

"It wouldn't hurt," Replied Kirche sarcastically.

"Just one problem," Guiche started, "We still can't see through this smoke and we can barely cast magic without choking to death. I've already tried sending my Valkyrie's out there, but they can only go so far before I lose control of them and they become dead metal. Even if we know their locations there's little chance we can get out there to stop them."

Raziel looked at Derflinger before turning to the others, "Derflinger can sense magic and I can travel through the smoke. Once the mages are killed, the smoke will begin to disperse again?"

"That should be the case," Guiche answered. He wasn't even going to bother asking how exactly Raziel planned to go through the smoke without choking; if he could survive being impaled by his Valkyrie then he could certainly survive this too.

Raziel nodded turned to leave before he felt a soft pulling on his arm. It was Tabitha, "Be careful," Raziel nodded again before beginning his run to the outside. He would need to be if he wanted to succeed.

* * *

"Who in the void are-"

Whatever the mage was about to say was cut off as Raziel impaled Derflinger through his stomach. He tried to struggle and cast a spell, but Raziel slapped his hand over his mouth and refused to let go till his movements ceased and the feeling of his soul leaving his body and entering his once again took over. Shaking his head at the blood, he stood up and wiped Deflinger's blade on the grass.

Another one down.

The Mages were usually alone. At times there were one or two bandits accompanying them, but for the most part they had expected no one to be able to come to them. It made sense for the most part: They were positioned on the far edges of the field in order to avoid the teachers and the dark clothes they wore ensured that they would be camouflaged among the smoke. The only reason Raziel found them was because he had Derflinger sensing the magic they used to keep the smoke concentrated on the area.

Killing them was easy. They hadn't expected anyone save for the stray student or commoner to find them, and even then they expected whoever found them to be weakened heavily from smoke inhalation. Surprise killed them more than anything.

He even figured out how they were keeping the smoke boxed in. Similar to Tabitha's 'Air bubble' keeping breathable air in, all the enemy Mages around the area made their own bubbles that kept the smoke contained. No matter how hard the students tried, they wouldn't be able to dispel the smoke because the bubble would keep it from really going anywhere. A perverse use of the magic, but a use nonetheless.

"That makes six," Derf commented, "That should be enough to stop the smoke, right, partner?"

"Not sure," He could see better now since he was near the eastern exit to the field, but he wasn't sure if that was enough to disperse the smoke coming from the main field. 'Cesare' did mention that not all of the Mages were actively propagating the smoke, and he had killed six out of the ten mentioned, so it should have been enough right.

Another explosion made him lose his balance and fall onto the ground, "Loud..." He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the ringing in his head. This explosion was louder than the previous one. It almost felt like it had been done next to him.

"Hey partner, you might want to turn around!" Derf warned him.

Hands holding his head, he stood up shakily and looked behind him. There was structure there, shaped vaguely in the shape of a humanoid. It was made of light brown stone with wide, stumpy 'limbs'. The face, if it could even be called that, was connected to its upper body and shoulders and looked more like a carving than something made for showing expression.

But the weirdest part about it was the humanoid figure sitting on its 'shoulder'. He couldn't see them very well - the smoke still obscured a majority of the area around them - but he could make out a a cloak and a wand. It didn't take him long to realize what it was: A Golem, just like Guiche's but bigger. Much bigger. The person sitting on its shoulder must have been its controller, judging by the wand they were using.

"Any idea who that is?" Derf questioned. Raziel shook his head as it smashed its fist against the building again, "Well something tells me that thing being here the same time as these bandits isn't a coincident.

It raised its right hand and smashed against the wall of the building again, sending another shockwave through the ground. Those weren't explosions - At least, not all of them were. He had assumed that the rocking on the ground were the attackers setting off more explosives while the general panic set in, but this made more sense. They were distracting everyone from that thing and everyone would assume the shockwaves were just more explosions by the attackers. Whoever they were, they were completely cloaked.

That's who Cesare was distracting for.

He needed to stop them. Struggling to keep his balance, he picked up Derflinger and made his way to the Golem's 'foot'.

Fouquet sighed in annoyance as the walls continued to hold despite her rampant assaults. Biting her lip in frustration, she turned her gaze from the wall to the smoking field. The longer she stayed here the more people died. She sincerely hoped that whatever she was being sent to get was worth all this trouble; she wouldn't be able to look at her little sister in the eyes again if this turned out to be a hoax.

She raised the Golem's fist again before stopping. Something was attacking her Golem.

Raziel grunted as the Golem's 'foot' healed itself again despite his strikes. He was strong enough to take off chunks of the appendage with every strike, but he wasn't fast enough that he could destroy it faster than it healed. Raziel growled in frustration and gripped Derflinger with both hands. He wasn't going to stop them now, not unless he continued without stopping.

"What is he doing?" Fouquet looked down as the figure down by the Golem's foot continued to attack despite the regeneration. She didn't recognize him through the smoke - most likely just an overzealous student or a stray knight who had caught onto her. Shaking her head in pity, she waved a her wand and made the Golem's foot nudge him off. It would hurt, but he wouldn't die.

"Argh!" Raziel bit back a string of curses as he landed harshly on the ground. He couldn't damage that thing, not as long as the Mage who made it would continued to fix whatever damage he took. Biting his lips in order to alleviate the pain, Raziel stood up shakily and gripped Derflinger again.

"Partner, I don't think this is gonna work," Derf commented irritably, "Golem's are tough enough when they're normal sized, but giants like this are hard to destroy. You need to destroy it entirely or you take out the Mage: Whichever one works best. My suggestion? Go for the Mage. There's only one of you and there's one of them. Seems more fair than trying to replace an army.

"...How do I reach them," Raziel flinched as he felt spasms of pain shoot up his left arm. It had taken the burnt of the attack and every movement sent uncomfortable joins to shoot up the limb, "Climbing is too inefficient."

"Hell if I know," Derf cackled, "You're the one with the legs, right? I'm just along for the ride."

Raziel rolled his eyes and sheathed the talking sword. He needed to get higher and climbing wasn't an option, so what was the next best thing? His head turned to the right and he couldn't help the wry smile that took over his face. If he couldn't climb the Golem, then he would have to climb the building standing next to it. Preparing himself for the worst, he opened the door and ran up the stairs.

Fouquet smiled under her hood as the cracks on the wall began to widen. She'd been doing this for long enough that she was sure she'd had enough of punching walls to last a lifetime, but she did it. She was beginning to doubt the information that Colbert had given her about brute force being able to get past the barrier as simple codswallop that he fed her in order to appear smarter. But he was right, and now he just needed one more punch and she'd be able to-

"Are you insaaaaaannnnne!?"

The green haired thief looked up at the yelling voice and couldn't help but freeze in surprise. Someone was falling.

Raziel crashed onto the Golem's left shoulder, impaling Derflinger on the construct's material. He had to admit: That was exhilarating. The last time he had done a lunging attack was against the Stray Demon from the Undead Burg. It was a risky maneuver to do; one misstep meant falling painfully onto the ground and being wide open to any giant monster that happened to by lying around.

Which made succeeding feel even better.

"Partner, I've done some crazy **shit** in my time, but that was absolutely insane!" Derf yelled, handguard clicking rapidly in irritation, "One miss and we would've both ended up as stains on the floor! Next time, I'm going to make the plans!"

"Understood," Raziel removed Derflinger from the stone and charged to Fouquet, who was still bewildered with the Undead's sudden appearance.

"Get out of my way!" He was nearly halfway to her before she made the Golem forcefully shake, making him lose balance slightly, "I tried to shake you off earlier without killing you. Don't make me kill you: I wanna avoid killing anyone I don't need to."

He ignored her and continued to press forward. She couldn't say that she didn't want to kill anyone: All the people who died in that smokey field were because of her. She couldn't deny responsibility now after everything that happened and claim that she wanted to avoid killing, not now. She was responsible for every person that died today.

"Die," Raziel stabbed Derflinger forward, forcing her to dodge to the side and barely avoid falling. Not giving her a chance to rest, he made another slash to the right; another she barely dodged.

"Get off!" Fouquet mouthed a quick incantation before slamming down her hand roughly. The Golem shook slightly before raising its left hand to its right shoulder and attempting to grab Raziel and throw him off. Doing his best to keep his balance, he grabbed Derflinger with both hands and slashed down.

Fouquet twitched as she saw half of her Golem's hand get cut clean off and fall into the ground with a large thud. The hand was naturally thinner than the foot so it shouldn't have surprised her that he was capable of damaging it to that extent.

"Alright, you want to die that badly? Fine!" Another spell. Raziel grabbed onto the Golem quickly and prepared for another grab attempt before he realized the Construct wasn't moving anymore.

"Not this time!" Raziel barely had time to turn to Fouquet before a wave of pain enveloped his entire face. She had augmented her fist - covered it in a thick layer of stone - and punched him right in the face, "Get off already!" She punched him again and this time he could do nothing as he felt himself fall off the Golem's shoulder.

He rolled, down the Golem's shoulder and onto its enclosed fist. Pain racked his entire body as the hard rock smashed into him, but he knew the landing would be the most painful if he didn't stop before hitting the ground. Desperately shaking off his dizziness, he stabbed Derflinger into the Golem's 'arm' and barely stopped at the Golem's knuckles.

Wait, the knuckles?

"Stubborn, aren't you? Fine, I hope you enjoy the ride."

He didn't have to ask what she meant before the Golem reared its fist back and prepared for its final strike against the Vault barriers. She was going to smash her Golem right through the wall and he was right between them. The only other option would have been to let go and fall to the ground, but that was no better given the height he would fall from he would most likely end up in the same state. He had to stick with it.

This was going to hurt

* * *

"Princess!" Louise jolted up from her place on the ground and coughed, vision still swimming. Next to her, Henrietta's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden jolt before she grabbed her friend's shoulders gently and started tapping her back.

"Louise, please rest," Henrietta smiled gently and pushed Louise down onto the grass slowly, "You fainted not too long ago and your body is still weak from inhaling so much smoke. You need to rest before you can move properly again."

"Princess, you're alright?" Louise smiled, relieved. Henrietta was covered in smoke and looked like she'd been dragged through hell, but she was alive at least. That was all that mattered, "Where...Where are we?"

"A safe place," Henrietta answered, "Your friend Ms. Kirche led me and Mr. Familiar here when we were lost in the smoke. She saved me from being attacked as well. Its thanks to her that we're here."

A Zerbst saved her? If Louise wasn't too sick to laugh, she would have guffawed at the bitter irony. So now she owed her life to a daughter belonging to her sworn rival family? If Eleanore could see her now she would have been in so much trouble. But regardless of that, it was because of her that the Princess was saved and she owed her for that, much as she disliked the idea of it.

And she really, really didn't like it.

As she was about to stand up she saw the figures of Tabitha, Kirche, and Guiche walking towards them and visibly relaxed. She was glad to see them - even Kirche. But, at the back of her head, she reminded herself that it was shameful to show weakness to fellow peers. She needed to stand up and see what she could do to help; she didn't want to appear as a victim.

"He did it," Tabitha intoned, pointing up at the rapidly smoke above them, "Fast."

"Huh, guess the bullet just grazed him," Kirche smiled and looked down at Louise, "Awake already, huh, Valliere? You missed your Familiar. Shame, the master being so far away from her Familiar is pretty disgraceful.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Louise raised a hand to her forehead and took deep, ragged breaths, "My Familiar was at the stage when this began and..." She tried to recall. Her Familiar did a performance, the crowd cheered, bandit's attacked, she jumped from and the stage and left...

Oh Brimir...

She had left her Familiar!

"Where-Where is he?" She asked frantically. Knowing him he was standing around the stage utterly oblivious to what was going on. She needed to find him before he got himself killed or worse.

"We don't know," Guiche answered somewhat nervously, "He told us that he would go after the wind Mages keeping the smoke in the field a while ago. He still hasn't come back, but the field's began to clear up already so he must have succeeded."

"...What?" Louise blinked and took a few moments to try and compose herself, "...My Familiar is alone out there and trying to take out Brimir knows how many mages? What made any of you think this was a good idea?" She asked. For voids sake, it sounded even weirder when she said it out loud. He won against Guiche, but he was a dot mage. How did he expect to fight against multiple Wind Mages?

"Given the results, I'd say he's succeeding," Kirche commented, looking at the area around them, "Tabitha doesn't have to hold up the air bubble anymore and the smoke's dissipating," She pointed to a few Wind Mage students off to the side, "They're already trying to clear the air and a lot of the people who attacked us are either getting detained by the teachers or running away. We're safe now."

"Tired," Tabitha commented blankly.

"Yes, good work," Kirche smiled and ruffled the blunette's hair affectionately, getting a blink in response.

Louise shook her head and tried let what they said sink in. Were they seriously telling her that her Familiar had managed to put down multiple Mages in a row and succeeded? That sounded too unbelievable. She could barely fathom Guiche's defeat, let alone this.

And, as much as she hated to admit it, she felt insulted. Her Familiar managed to do all that and what was she doing? Fainting from inhaling too much smoke, being saved by her childhood friend who she tried to help, and then owing her life to her sworn rival. Today was a complete and utter embarrassment, for both her and anyone who shared the name 'Valliere'. To think she was so worried about embarrassing herself in the show just this morning.

"Louise, I must help with treating more of the injured students," Henrietta stood up and bowed in apology, "Please take your time and rest easy. I'm sure Mr. Familiar will be back soon and he wouldn't want you to strain yourself."

"Same here." Kirche cut in, "Guiche, Tabitha and I will check around to again just in case. Get some sleep, Valliere."

Louise didn't reply as the princess and her peers separated from her. The Princess was right. She needed to rest and she still didn't have enough energy to move properly, let alone to look for her Familiar.

And yet, that wasn't going to stop her. Taking a deep breath, Louise forced pressure into her legs and stood up shakily. Her Familiar was put there right now and, like it or not, he was bound to her. It was the Familiar's duty to protect the master, but it was also the master's duty to watch over their Familiar and take care of them. She wouldn't be able to call herself a Mage if she abandoned her Familiar.

"Alright, Louise, you can do this..."

* * *

**"I hate this swamp!" **

**Blighttown was his least favorite place among all the locations he went through. In addition to smelling like someone had crapped all over everything,** **he seemed to go slower whenever he was here for whatever reason. The poison in the swamp and the thickness of the water forcing him to a crawl also didn't help how alleviate how much he hated this swamp.**

**Oh, and there were the monsters. Oh how he hated the monsters here. At least the monsters in Anor Londo had the decency to shine their armor. But here? Here there were giant monsters covered from head to toe in feces wielding giant clubs and boulders; giant insects that tried to prick him and suck out his blood (not that he had much to give); and flame demons that looked like a cross between a spider and a crab. So really, not only did the location stink (And quite literally at that), he had to deal with its awful smelling denizens.**

**"Why Quelana insists on staying here, I don't know. Place smells like shit and vomit," Raziel nearly gagged as one of the boulder wielding crap monsters rolled on the floor in an attempt to put out the Pyromancy Raziel had doused him in. As Raziel found out, the only thing worse than the smell of feces was the smell of burning feces. He didn't need to breath but he didn't lose his sense of smell either, much to his dismay right now.**

**Leaving behind the pudgy monster, Raziel grimaced from inside his knight helm as he went ever closer to the poisonous waters of Blighttown. He really should killed Eingyi, he really should have, but that meant Quelaag's sister would be stuck alone with no one to help her. Suppressing a sigh, he flipped the covering of his helmet and swallowed a few clumps of Purple Moss. They tasted like they'd been dragged through the sewer walls - and they probably were given who sold them - but if it meant avoid poison then he was willing to stick with it.**

**"Ugh, I hate doing this..." He shivered as the slimy water lapped at his skin through the small gaps in his armor. Even without the poison the feeling of the water never stopped being disgusting. And this was through an Undead's decayed body. He dreaded to think how a normal human would feel when passing through this swamp. He decided not thinking about it was the best idea.**

**Quelana was close-by and, if his hunch was right, he would meet Laurentius here as well. He had gotten a significant headstart and he was even more excited to meet Quelana than he was, given her reputation as 'The Mother of Pyromancy'. He wondered how his friend was doing. It had been a while since he had seen him and Firelink Shrine had began to feel empty now that Logan and Griggs had left on their own journeys as well. He smiled inwardly; seeing Laurentius again would be a good boost to his energy after what happened to Lautrec in Anor Londo.**

**As Raziel was about to reach the landmass, the water in front of him exploded with a loud pop, "Ah, what the!?" Raziel frantically pawed at the opening of the helmet and tried wipe away the toxic water. Another explosion of water, this time to his left. Raziel growled in frustration and removed the helmet, tossing it away haphazardly. He couldn't see!**

**He rubbed his eyes again, blinking rapidly in an effort to remove the toxic water from his eyes. Everything was hazy; like everything had been doused in the slimy water. He could see someone in front of him: Wearing rags he couldn't identify and a skeletal body. A Hollow, Raziel noted. And not only that, but a Hollow who knew Pyromancy! That was new. The heat from the fires it was tossing caused the toxic water to pop.**

**It tossed another flame ball; right in front of him this time. Raziel's eyes widened before another stream of toxic water invaded his orifices. Gods damn Hollow, he was going to kill that thing. He unsheathed Quelana's furysword from his side and charged forward. He could barely see anything and movement was sluggish, but he focused on the figure. **

**Raziel tackled the figure and held it up against the wall, scowling as it pushed and clawed against him. That was what all these things were: Mindless husks left of the person they once were. Shaking the last of the toxic water out of his eyes, he grabbed the Hollow neck before impaling Quelaag's sword through its midsection. It struggled again, pushing and shoving him in an attempt to remove the flaming sword from its flesh, but it was in vain. **

**He blinked. The last of the water was finally disappearing and he could see what was causing him so much trouble. But as his vision cleared, the feelings of victory and achievement were absent, replaced instead by dread and horror. The Hollow wasn't wearing Rags, but the uniform of a Pyromancer from the swamps.**

**"What...? ...No..." Laurentius. Raziel's grip on the sword loosened and he fell back. His face had taken the decay the Humanity hid, but there was no doubt about it: It was Laurentius. The Hollow on the wall clawed at the sword one last time before the sword covered itself in flames, purging the life from the mindless corpse. Raziel watched as Laurentius' body disappeared and as his clothes burnt to ash. **

**And just like with any being he killed, the souls left Laurentius body and entered his. **

**He sat there, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He had killed his friend. Not only that, but he had killed him without even realizing. To him he was just another mindless Hollow; like the dozens he had killed on his journey.**

**And now Laurentius was gone. He had destroyed his body and taken whatever was left of his soul in him. Raziel's body shivered: Not from disgust, but out of rage. Rage at himself, rage at Laurentius for being so careless. It was his fault. When Laurentius asked him where he got his Pyromancy, he shouldn't have said anything. Laurentius might have hated him, but at least he would still be alive! And now he was gone, killed by him with barely a second thought. **

**He smashed his hand against the wall. It didn't hurt; barely anything ever hurt unless it was from one of the monsters he faced. He roared an animalistic growl and smashed his hand against the stone wall, his hand flaring with more and more fire with every hit. He was angry, but he couldn't find anyone to blame but himself. **

**"You are attracting attention, tread carefully..." Raziel smashed his fist against the wall one last time before looking up. Quelana, "Your anger is overtaking you. You must be careful, or the flames will consume you as they did Salaman. Do not let your grievances take your mind, lest you lose your body along with it."**

**Always with the words of wisdom, Raziel thought. She was the reason Laurentius was here and he died so close to achieving his dream of meeting her. All he wanted was to learn from her, to find out what she'd taught him. But now he was dead and Quelana was still here.**

**Raziel crunched his grip on the dirt before smashing Quelana against the wall. The sister of chaos barely reacted to the sudden assualt,"You knew he was here, didn't you! You must have heard him stepping on the swamp and being attacked by the monsters!" He accused. Quelana nodded, "Then why didn't you help him! Why didn't you save him? You could have saved him..."**

**"He was a friend to you...?" Raziel took a ragged breath and nodded, "Them I apologize for your loss. Though to you he was a friend, to me he was but a stranger. I did not know if he wished to do me harm."**

**"Laurentius would never do that! He's one of the kindest people I've met! All he wanted was to learn Pyromancy from you and he even risked his life coming down here just for that."**

**"How was I know to know this?" Quelana bit back calmly, "If I could not find the courage to save my sisters, then what made you think I would have the courage to save a stranger? I am a coward, this is something I've never lied about." Raziel looked away, "Then let me ask this? Was it not you who killed my sister on your first trip here?"**

**"I did, but-"**

**"I do not fault you for it, for you had good reason and little choice," Quelana held up a hand to silence him, "However, to you she was a simple attacker: A monster. My brother in the lower depths of Izalith. You killed him because to you he was a simple mindless monster. Again I do not fault your for it, for you had no knowledge to his circumstances."**

**"And so I ask you, how are my actions any different from yours? My family may have been suffering, and I thank you for ending their pain, but they were my family and you cut them down without a thought to who they were. I apologize for the loss of your friend, but to me he was a simple stranger, nothing more. We all have our own views."  
**

**Raziel's grip on the elder Pyromancer loosened and she walked away, leaving him there in the solitary island. He placed his back against the wall and slid downt, crashing to the floor in a heap. In the end, he couldn't blame anyone else. **

* * *

Fouquet waved her hand through the air held her breath. The dust from the displaced stone was unpleasant and caused her nose to itch, but that was of little concern. Cautiously she peeked in, looking through the area to see if she could find any more magical traps in place. Finding nothing else to concern herself, she jumped from her Golem's hand onto the impromptu entrance.

The first thing she noticed was the crumpled form of her opponent. He was there, lying facedown among the rubble and barely emitting a sound. There was no way he survived that; his armor was almost completely destroyed and the bones in his body must have snapped on impact. Fouquet sucked in her tongue: She wanted to avoid needless deaths, but he pushed her and she had to retaliate. She gave him many chances to walk away.

She almost didn't recognize him anymore. Miss. Valliere's Familiar, and yet he was here and his master was nowhere in sight.

The interior of the vault was exactly as she expected: Lavishly decorated with gold and silver with multiple paintings adorning the walls. All around her she could see chests, filled to the brim with gold, coins, jewelry, and whatever else a thief could hope to steal. There were even rare arcane tomes; historical records written by Brimir's disciples themselves. Even selling one of those books to an aspiring collector would have set both and her sister for life.

But that wasn't what she was here for. Licking her lips in disappointment, she ignored the treasure trove around her and went to the case at the pedestal. Unlike everything else, the case holding the staff was nothing special; simple wood already showing signs of old age. Releasing a sigh of disappointment, he opened the box and looked at the contents.

It was a staff. Certainly longer and darker than most of the staves used by normal wizards, but a staff nonetheless. She couldn't keep the disappointed from from reaching her lips as she reached down for it. This was the treasure the academy worked so hard to keep hidden and what she was being blackmailed to steal? This was a simple staff; and not a particularly good looking one either. She could see the end of it bent over like some kind of primitive axe and the handle curved like a snake, meaning whoever held it would have a hard time doing so.

As soon as her fingers made contact with the catalyst, she could feel all warmth leave her body. She shivered, as if wrapped in a thin sheet of ice. All around her she could hear screaming: Men, Women, Children, and, worst of all, an angry roar that sent ripples through her body. She couldn't make out their words, only that they were screaming in pain and anguish. Something powerful held this staff once, something...primal.

She removed her hand from the rod and stepped back, sweat pouring down her face as she hurriedly closed the box on it. She didn't want to take it with her, but she had little choice in the matter. She just hoped whoever planned to use this thing knew what they were doing, or they would suffer.

* * *

"...rtner...up...artner...ake up!"

Raziel opened his eyes to pain. He could feel it all over his body and his every movement sent jolts of agony to spread across his body. Gritting his teeth and holding in his tongue, he forced himself to crawl forward from under the debris he was in. Everything hurt and he couldn't twitch a finger without feeling like he'd been tortured, but he was alive.

But there was more keeping him going: Anger. He looked at his right palm and stared blankly at the crimson flame covering it. The only thing stronger than fire were the fires of chaos, signified by the crimson color overtaking the orange. Chaos flame burned stronger than anything else and could melt through anything...even stone Golems...

"Oh man, I almost thought I lost ya!" Derf clicked in relief, "The thief broke in here and she just went out, so I think its a good idea to just wait here till she leaves."

"She is outside?" Talking was hard.

"Yeah, and I think you should live and let live with this one," Derf suggested, "Partner I'm all for never surrendering and dying with honor and all that, but you nearly got killed and you barely grazed her. There's little point in a fight where you have no chance of winning and you don't accomplish anything."

Raziel looked down at his palm again. The anger fueling him right now wasn't his: At least, it wasn't anymore. It was the rage of his former, the one who had killed Laurentius. And yet, he couldn't deny the power it gave him. Quelana warned him that anger was the most dangerous catalyst, but it was also the most powerful one. After all, what could help more with fire than the burning desire to destroy?

Raziel balled his hand into a fist before smiling. It wouldn't last for long and he doubted if he could ever replicate the effect again, but right now he ad the power of the Flames of Chaos. He had a chance to win this.

Outside, Fouquet heaved as she deposited the container holding the staff on the Golem's shoulder. The smoke was beginning to dissipate from the field and that meant her distraction was long gone by now. Best she leave before anyone took notice of her.

As she instructed the Golem to take its first step, she could feel the temperature around her increase. She wondered briefly what was going on before she realized; her Golem's arm was burning. Had somebody spotted her? She looked around at the ground quickly and found no one. What had happened? Shaking her head, she cast the regeneration spell and-

"What!?" The regeneration spell wasn't working! She cast it again, and again it proved useless. The fire was burning through the stone faster than the spell could heal it. From the hole in the wall a ball of crimson flame flew out before hitting against the Golem's other arm.

Like before, the regeneration spell proved useless and she could do little but watch as both of the Construct's arms melted into useless sludge. This was impossible! Not even a square class Fire mage should have been able to burn through her Golem, not without using a heavy amplifier like oil. And even then, it shouldn't have made her regeneration spell worthless.

Raziel's smile widened ever so slightly as he saw the giant Golem's arms melt down into nothing. Fouquet looked at the and spotted him. She was surprised; at the fact that he was using Pyromancy or at the fact that he was alive? Either way it mattered little. One shot to the Golem's 'legs' should be enough to take it down for good.

The Mage thief's eyes widened. He wasn't using a wand. He was throwing fire at her with his bare hands and it was overpowering her magic. She hurriedly ordered her Golem to take a step back but it was too late. Another fireball, bigger than the last two, hit one of her Golem's legs and she sound found herself falling as the Golem lost its balance.

* * *

"...This isn't what I signed up for," Fouquet groaned. She had expected an easy snatch and grab, maybe one with casualties but she had expected to get out of this without a scratch. If she was told she was going to have to fight a wandless Mage with the capabilities of a square class Fire Mage then she would have taken her chances with running.

The green haired thief cradled the container against her and stepped back. Raziel was there, walking towards her slowly like a monster out of a nightmare. She summoned a miniature Golem to serve as a distraction, but it barely did anything before a flick of the flames melted it down and she was forced to summon another one. She had no way of winning this: Her willpower was too spent and she couldn't summon her main Golem anymore. It was take a miracle for her to survive this.

It was as if Brimir himself was watching over her. Raziel crumpled to the ground, his vacant hand moving to cover his right eye as if he had been attacked. Taking the chance, Fouquet expended the last of her willpower and summoned a few more Golems before running to the exit. Raziel was barely able to place his hand on the ground and summon pillars of fire before another burst of pain forced his attention.

His right eye had changed color, turning into pinkish red; just like his master. He blinked a few more times before he could focus. On his normal left eye he could see Foquet running to escape. But on his right...

"The Familiar's link," Derf's voice reached his ears, "Your master's in danger and the link is showing you where she is. It always hurts the first few times it happens."

He could see through his masters eyes. She was being dragged through the school. Small trees? He recognized those. The small field Siesta was sleeping in before. No one ever went there and with the panic from earlier it was guaranteed to be deserted. No sooner had he seen it, the link was severed and he was forced to the ground again.

"Partner, your master's in danger! You're her Familiar and you have the runes, so that means you protect her!"

"But-"

"Its either you chase after that thief or you save your master! You can't have both!"

Raziel looked to where Fouquet escaped. She had escaped into the forest already but he could still follow her if he went now. She was responsible for everything that had happened and if he let her go now she would get away with it. But his master was in danger and he couldn't gamble on her life right now

The choice was obvious.

* * *

"My plan destroyed, my comrades dead or captured, and we have nothing to show for our efforts!" Cesare yelled, "The only thing we have left are three men and a wandering girl you caught!"

Louise shook her head and looked around groggily. She was being forced to kneel, her arms both held by dark figures. She had tried to look for her Familiar and, in her weakness, she was captured by the remaining attackers in her search. She didn't even know where she was right now; all she could see were trees and some light sunlight. Was she still in the school?

"Tell me who you are, girl, and why I shouldn't cut your throat now and be done with," Cesare grabbed her hair roughly and forced her too look up, "You are no Princess, no Cardinal. What value does your life hold?"

Despite her situation, she still found it in her to scowl at her interrogator. She was afraid, she was scared of what he would do and if she would die, but she refused to show her fear. Raziel's situation was different; she had seen something supernatural, something she had never seen in her life. But now? Human interrogators and threats. She found little need to show her fear here.

"Keeping your tongue, are you?" Cesare smirked, "Very well it matters little. All the fun to be had getting you to talk." Louise's blood turned ice cold at his next action. He'd unsheathed a dagger, a serrated blade that could cut with just the lightest touch, "We shall see how long you can last before you start squealing, my little pig. I do so enjoy these games."

"...Familiar...save me..." She whispered softly, closing her eyes. She could feel the blade's cold touch against her chest. Cesare was cutting away at her buttons; there was little reason to do it other than to unnerve her.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you," He sliced at her cheeks. Louise felt pain as her pale skin as the crimson liquid slowly dribbled down from her cheekbones and onto her chin.

She could feel tears fall from her eyes and begin to mix with the blood on her face. She was going to die here, wasn't she? Alone and with no one to help her, all because she didn't listen. She didn't want to die, not like this.

"Raziel! Save me!"

The grips on her sides disappeared. Louise opened her eyes and gasped: The bandits at her side had fallen the ground, deep gashes across their backs. Their armor had been torn through completely. Behind them, she could see a familiar head of white hair.

"Raziel!" Louise called. Her Familiar had saved her, he had come for her, "What...happened to you?" He looked horrible. He was covered in smoke, dust, and his armor was nearly destroyed. He looked like he could barely stand.

"Its a long story, pinky!" Derf replied for him. Raziel clenched his right hand quickly before throwing another ball of concentrated flame at the bandit standing closest to Cesare. As soon as the flame made contact with his body, it spread immediately and it wasn't long before he began to scream in agony. Chaos flame could never be put out unless its target died. It was exactly why it was considered risky to use.

Louise closed her eyes and covered her ears to try and muffle out the noise of his screams. She had heard tales from her father and mother about the horrors of war, but nothing compared to seeing it. Even when she covered her ears she could still hear some sounds of his voice.

But that wasn't the only thing Lousie had to take note of. Her Familiar was using magic. He had just burned someone to death and he did it with magic. Louise removed her hands from her ears took some calming breaths. She had seen her Familiar burn someone to death and he used magic. No matter how many times she repeated it in her head she still couldn't believe it.

"Micheletto's dead," Cesare commented neutrally, giving a blank stare at the burnt corpse, "And who is my opponent now? A child who looks like he can barely stand?" He laughed, though Louise could tell he was bluffing. Despite Raziel's appearance and state, he had disposed of his remaining bandits before he could blink and he had apparently used magic to do it.

"Well, we should finish this then," He sheathed the dagger and pulled two blades from behind this back. Raziel's face darkened as he saw the design of the weapon; small crescent blades with metallic handles. Shotels, the weapons of the knights of Carim. So whoever this Cesare was he came from Carim and wasn't a native of this land, just like him.

"I had found this blade during one of my travels," Okay, maybe not, "The design has always interested me and I often wondered how to use it. I think I will not have much of a chance now after everything that's happened."

Raziel's scowl deepened as he continued to stare at the blades. He could remember Lautrec's laughter, his words ringing in his ears. The flame on his palm extended from his hand to his elbow. The flame was beginning to consume him, he noted painfully. He needed to end this quickly.

"Come then, let us start!"

Cesare probably expected to go down fighting, to fight Raziel till his very last breath and go down as someone who, when pushed into a corner, proved stronger than those around him.

The truth was much more simple.

Raziel grabbed the Shotel with his flaming hand and Cesare watched in horror as it melted from the extreme heat. He tried to use the other crescent blade to strike against Raziel, but a parry from Derflinger was enough to disarm him of the foreign weaponry. Shotel's were extremely powerful weapon, but only in the right hands. The Knights of Carim trained with the weapon for months in order to adjust to its steep weight and odd shape. Someone who decided to pick it up and use it without any training wasn't going to be very effective.

He needed to finish this. Focusing on the fire one last time, Raziel opened his palm and struck it against Cesare's face and holding it.

"Aaaaaaahhhhh!" Cesare yelled in pain as fire began to engulf his head. With one last burst of energy, he grabbed the dagger from his back and stabbed it into Raziel's neck. The Undead barely flinched at the attack; after everything he'd been put through today, the attack honestly mattered very little. Raziel's grip didn't falter until he once again felt the familiar feeling of souls leaving his body and transferring to his.

It was over. Raziel blinked as drops of water fell on his head: It was raining again. He looked up at the darkened sky before looking at his palm again. The fire had gone out. There was nobody else to fight and no one to focus his anger. He flinched as he stared at his hand - It was burnt again, just like when he first came here not too long ago.

Raziel turned from Cesare's dead body and made his way to his master. She was sitting on the grassy ground with her knees up to her chest and she was soaking wet, but she was alive. Louise looked up at her approaching Familiar and shivered again. He had killed everyone here, all of them. But he had done it to protect her, like any Familiar should. She didn't know why she cared so much. Larger Familiar's tended to kill anything threatening their master, so why was she so surprised that he did it? Was it because he appeared human?

"You killed them?" She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes."

"You used magic," She pointed at his hand, "You didn't use a wand and yet you still used magic."

"...If master could call it that."

She looked up at him again before turning away. Raziel looked down at her curiously before she pointed a shaking finger at his neck. Raziel reached up and let out a cold breath; the dagger was still imbedded in his neck. Raziel used his left hand and pulled the small weapon off his neck. Louise forced herself to look up and was barely surprised as she found no bleeding. He didn't bleed.

Louise tried to say something else before she stopped. It was a question she should have asked ever since the first day she'd summoned him. But instead she put it off, doing her best to ignore it because she dreaded the answer. His first appearance, after his fight with Guiche, both times she could have asked and both times she chose not to. Now she needed find the answer.

"Who are you...what are you?"

"A monster."

* * *

**Phew, done with the Familiar's Fair part of the Fouquet arc. Gotta tell you guys, writing this chapter was a giant pain in the tush. Almost all fight scenes and badly written ones at that. Thankfully the next chapter is one of those talking chapters I like so much and I'll be able to do it easier. Now to reply to some reviews.**

**Now I know some of you are already complaining: WTF!? SMOKE!? What a lame excuse! Honestly, as powerful as Mages can be, they're still human. Humans would choke out on smoke in less than 15 minutes, even faster if they move around. Also kinda hard to focus when you can barely breath, so its gonna be hard to cast spells.**

**Question: When does the Count Mott thing take place timeline wise? Also, why did Siesta fall for Saito in the LN when he never saved her or anything? She goes from being friends to "He is the love of my life" with no precedent. Lastly, should I switch this to an M rating? I don't think its too graphic, but I'm paranoid given how many fics were deleted last year during the 'purge'.  
**

**Necrofantasia - All nobles are mages, but not all mages are nobles. Miss. Longueville/Fouquet is an example of a Mage who's not an aristocrat.**

**Demons Anarchy - He said the reason: He dislikes Princesses due to his experiences with Gwynevere :p There's really no deeper reason to it. It may seem like a stupid reason, but he's not the paragon of intelligence so he can be stupid from time to time.**

**AnubisGundam0 - That...is...brilliant! Thank you for the idea :D Although now I have this mental image of of Louise standing still looking pissed while Raziel tries to use her to craft weapons. Better not spoil anything for now.**

**Judurad - You need a Dark Hand to suck out Humanity :( **

**Kraut - Thank you :) I enjoy making this story and it puts a smile on my face when I see someone enjoy reading it. Hopefully you continue reading.**

**Bigreader in the Omniverse - Trust me, that'll be explained later :) As for the likeness to Legacy of Kain? Simple fanboyism. Now I will explain how he changes from blue Wraith to Humanoid looking Undead. Flashbacks to those segments will be sparse since they're plot critical and activate parts of his runes, meaning there's gonna be about 6 to 7 of them. **

**BrazeRancor - Because its impossible to make your own bonfire :p In Dark Souls you can only ACTIVATE bonfires, meaning you can't make your own. Imagine how gamebreaking the ability to make your own bonfires would be? The game would be so broken. **


	12. Aftershock

**Next chapter came faster than expected :) Now that I'm looking at everything, however, I realize that the next chapters are going to be a pain in the tush to write: After this is the count Mott arc, then the Albion arc, then the Reconquista arc. The only breaks I get are the treasure hunting/Dragons Raiment arc and the visit to the Valliere's home. So its going to be fight scene after fight scene after fight scene. Damn it...**

**Now before I start, I'm gonna say it again for the last time: I've been getting PM's from some readers that are dissatisfied with how I'm portraying the CU and his power levels. I'm gonna post this now: I'm not changing the character just because you whine. I've said my piece on why I won't, so you can accept it and move on or just not read my story. You want a strong CU from that start that's socially confident? Read Sargeman's "Familiar Souls". This story is a juxtaposition of that, so you're not going to get the same thing. If you want a CU that's "Less emo", then I can't help you. So please stop PMing me about complaints that will never be answered. **

**Being honest here: Familiar Souls was my inspiration for this fic. I vaguely thought about a Dark Souls crossover, but it was only after reading that fic that I made this story. But since I didn't want a copy paste story, I made the CU's personality and his circumstances a juxtaposition of his by making him more tired and cynical compared to the "Chosen" from Familiar Souls. So thank you Sargeman, and I hope your story can satisfy the people who are expecting a more powerful and confident CU. **

* * *

The forests near the Academy of Magic wasn't as thick as the rest of Tristain's woodland. Due to the close proximity of the school, its was theorized that the rampant magic in the air somehow affected the growth rate of the trees and prevented them from growing as thick as the other natural forests. Other theories included the academy itself holding some kind of priceless artifact underground that prevented root growth or maybe that there was a secret batch of cultists doing something with the roots that killed off the trees.

The headmaster thought it was because of the rampant cutting of trees the school did in order produce paper, but what did he know?

It was this same forest that the Mage thief Fouquet found herself escaping to. She ran, faster than she knew she could, the rain continuing to pour around her and covering her in a thick blanket of water. In her arms she held a worn wooden case, holding it protectively close to her like a mother would to their child. As she continued to run, it became evident that she was limping and her breaths became more ragged the longer she went. She was injured, and quite heavily at that.

Anybody who saw her would've taken pity on her. Her cloak was torn, the edges and bottom of it shredded at the seams. Under her thick hood, tiny drops of blood dropped from her cheeks and onto her tunic. As if adding insult to injury, thick streaks of mud caked both her hands and fingers, no doubt from the muddy soil she had been stepping on.

She didn't know how long she'd been running. Her willpower still hadn't recovered and she feared what would happen if someone had caught up to her. She couldn't summon a Golem nor could she use any spell to defend herself. The best she could hope for was using the knife she had packed for emergencies, and even then she doubted it could do anything.

This wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to be an easy job - She had lowered herself morally in order to make sure of it! And yet, she was nearly killed by someone using magic that was an impossibility. What in the void was that, anyway? Even the most experienced fire Mages shouldn't have been able to melt her stone faster than she could recover it.

"Damn it all to the void!" She yelled, her voice jostling the trees leaves with its intensity. How did she get roped into this? She was a thief, not a mercenary for hire. She didn't requests from anyone except for her, and she had no idea what she had to do to support the two of them and the kids she harbored. If she was gone, Tiffa would be... no one would take care of her.

She shook the her head and sighed. As much as she wanted to shove this staff up the collective posterior of the people who hired her, she couldn't change the fact that they had her by the hair and that with the snap of a finger she would be nothing more than a memory to those who cared to remember her. She needed to get this staff to its destination and fast.

It wasn't purely for desperation's sake that she ran into the forest. Before the attack, Cesare had told her that their 'mutual benefactor' had given her a location on where to drop the staff off; a dead drop of sorts. He had mentioned something about a small abandoned building deep into the woods surrounding the academy. He gave her no directions, only stating that she would know it when she saw it.

It was only after a few more minutes of running that she saw it. Through the trees and almost completely masked by the foliage around it, a small wooden cottage that looked like it had seen better days. Even through the rain she could see pieces of the wall peeling off and a hole in the roofs side that would make living there inconvenient at best. But it was the last place anyone would think to look for a Mage thief.

The resounding slam of the door being forced open echoed all around the dusty interior. Fouquet rushed inside before collapsing to the floor, taking deep breaths as she finally felt safe. The reality of what had happened was almost too much for her too bear - She was nearly killed by something that shouldn't have existed. No matter how many times she repeated the memories in her head, they never stopped making absolutely no sense. A Familiar - A human Familiar - had summoned fire from his hands and destroyed her Golem. Not a Salamander or a Dragon, but a Human; or at least something that appeared to be human.

Wearily, she grabbed for the wooden container and opened the lid slowly. The staff was still there, in its primeval and unholy glory. She'd nearly died for this thing, and for what? She couldn't even bear to look at it for too long without making her insides lurch from sickness.

"Well, well, it seems you had fun over there."

Fouquet grabbed for the knife inside her cloak and stood up quickly, turning to the source of the voice. A man stood there, tall and well built from what she could see of his body from the thick cloak that surrounded him. He was leaning against the wall nonchalantly, as if he didn't have a care in the world. At his side she could see a Rapier- No, upon closer inspection it was actually a sword; the tip of it was blunter than a normal Rapier.

The oddest thing about him the mask he wore. A white mask adorned with a wide smile. A theater mask, Fouquet noted. Easy enough to get a hold of and a popular choice for a lot of nobles when it came to things like masquerade parties or simply if they wanted to look gentlemanly. Right now it was blocking her from being able to see his facial features.

"Who are you?" She asked warily. He hadn't attacked her yet, but that didn't prove anything. Mayhaps he hoped to interrogate her before he killed her.

"Same as you; a pawn in our benefactor's game," He shrugged, "My job was simply to observe what happens and whether you succeeded in your task or not. Failure meant that I would have to eliminate you to ensure you wouldn't be caught and interrogated. I doubt you have any info for that could gravely compromise us, but His Eminence wishes to cover his tracks well."

"So what, are you here to kill me now?" She didn't have her willpower anymore, but that didn't mean she would curl up and die.

He laughed, sending shivers down her spine, "Now why would I do that? You did your task well," He walked towards her slowly and picked up the box, placing it on a small table in the center of the cabin, "Or at least, you seem to be in the process of doing so. I assume you're aware of the true scope of your task?" She could just imagine him grinning under that mask of his.

"...Find the staff's use," She recited bitterly. It wasn't enough for her employers that she get the staff; she had to find out how to use it or else the task was considered a failure. She'd considered it an easy enough task, but that was before she had actually held the staff in her own hands. The wand was a catalyst of darkness and corruption and she doubted anyone could actually use this.

"Correct," He clapped mockingly, "Finish that simple task and you shall gain your reward. I will be observing you until you do so. I hope you don't fail in your task; I would hate to kill a woman as beautiful as you."

Fouquet snorted. Flattery, of course. To commoners it might have been taken at face value, but she had spent enough time with nobility that she figured out quickly enough that flattery was ingrained into the nobility's system. Even those fighting duels to the death tended to compliment one another superficially as a way to show how 'noble' they were. She never believed it.

"One question then, if I can," The figure nodded, "You were observing the plan and had to have know things were going wrong. Why did you not step in to ensure that things were going to succeed?"

"Because I follow orders," He shook his head slowly in amusement, "I was ordered to watch you and I did it. Additionally, were a certain someone to see my face, my own agenda's would be ruined. I have a connection higher than that of a mere secretary, Miss Longueville," She was about to ask how he knew that before he left quickly, slamming the door behind him loudly. She was alone now.

So he knew her real identity? That was troubling. But what he said before that worried her. A connection higher than hers? Was he connected to the royalty? An heir to a family of well-known nobles, maybe? It would certainly explain why he was hesitant to allow his identity to be compromised.

But that wasn't her problem now. Warily she glanced at the case on the table. She needed to find how it worked, but there was no way for her to do that without killing herself or . She needed a willing Mage to use the staff and use its powers. She sighed: She would have to lower her already tenuous grip on morality even more. She was already responsible for the deaths of how many people, and now she was about to be responsible for even more.

She needed test subjects.

* * *

In all his memories, he couldn't recall ever seeing something like this.

Raziel glanced around him in silent astonishment. The normally empty field was filled to the brim with makeshift tents and bodies, with many of those still conscious either trying to heal those still clinging to life or burying those who couldn't be saved. It was a custom of their land, as his master had told him, to bury the dead so their soul would find peace in Brimir's lasting reign.

"Oh Founder Brimir, we beseech you, watch over your fallen children!" A clergyman - His name was Mazarin, as Raziel recalled - called out, raising his hands in a prayer to his unseen God, "May their souls find their way through the darkness and to your side where they shall remain for eternity. We ask you, as your humble servants, to protect us in the days to come and through the trials we may face."

Brimir. They kept repeating that name. Was this another God he didn't know about? He knew of the existence of foreign God's: Velka and Fina weren't part of the pantheon of God's in Lordran, but that didn't mean they didn't exist. Whoever this Brimir was, he was obviously connected to the sorcery of this place. He had simply assumed he was a powerful Mage like Logan, but apparently he was both this and a God to them.

He didn't believe in any God. Though that might have branded him a heretic here, he didn't care much for it - they would use any reason to burn him at the stake or stone him to death (again, in his case) now that they knew he was an Undead. It was a story he'd heard many times already.

The Undead Merchant told him his story. He was a respected merchant and beloved by his small community. He had a wife, a daughter, and even a thriving business. He had a perfect life. But when he passed away from illness and he reanimated, everyone watched the community stone him with a smile on their faces. To them, he died when the illness took him, and what came after was nothing but a monster. Only his daughter Yulia was willing to stand up for him, and she was branded a heretic because of it.

The Crestfallen Warrior had told him his story. He was a minor knight that had been sent on a mission that would finally earn him the title he deserved. But along the way, he was killed by Bandits and his comrades abandoned him when he came back from Death's embrace. Soon he gave into despair and whatever remained of his personality was absorbed by the sadness he felt.

Siegmeyer had told him his story. He was a loyal and famous knight of Catarina with many years of service to his name. But one day when he took a blade meant for his lord and he came back from death, the comrades he had fought with looked at him like he was some kind of monster and his own daughter was forced to kill him again in order to prove her loyalty to the royalty of Catarina. And despite all this, both father and daughter still loved one another and never lost trust in one another.

Rhea had told him her story. She was the sole daughter of an influential family high up in the (corrupt) church of Thorolund. But when she had turned Undead, her own father was forced to disown her till she found the 'Rite of Kindling' in what essentially amounted to as a suicide mission. Even she herself was aware of it, despite the front of being a holy woman she put up. She knew her father had essentially sent her to die (again) in order to preserve their families reputation.

Nothing mattered. Once you became an Undead, you were nothing but a monster in the eyes of 'normal' people. To them, he was a monster - An animal to be put down before he went rabid and started attacking. Now he was just waiting for their judgement.

While the priest was giving his sermons, the others - mostly commoners - were wrapping the body of their deceased in cloth and loading them in carts: To bring back to town, most likely. He found this intriguing - Bodies were usually burned in order to be sacrificed to the Flames and prevent them from resurrecting. This land may not have Undead, but the customs shouldn't have changed, right? It was almost as if he was in another land entirely.

Thinking back on it, why had no one reanimated? The Darksign was usually hit or miss about these sorts of things: About a half in half chance whether a person would resurrect or stay dead. And yet, not a single person had reanimated as far as he could see. None of the Bandits, none of the victims, no one at all. Odd, this place may have been prosperous, but the Darksigns reach should have extended to all.

Sighing, Raziel stood up from his place on the ground and stretched his right arm. Per his master's suggestion, he had gotten his burnt arm wrapped in bandages by one of the few healers around the area, along with his neck and stomach. Water magic wouldn't heal him and he needed a way to hide the burns and hole in his neck and stomach area so it wouldn't 'incite a panic', as his master said. Personally, he thought he got off rather well all things considered.

Speaking of his master, he hadn't seen her for a while now. She'd kept her distance from him on the slow walk back to camp and when they'd arrived she said that she would check on how the _princess_ was doing, leaving him to his own faculties. She was scared of him, that much he could figure out. He couldn't blame her. She must've been disgusted when she found that she was harboring a monster with her and even staying in the same room with him for a couple of weeks. She must've been thinking on what to do with him now.

He should have let her die. There was no benefit to him saving her over going over that thief. He didn't expect her to be thankful for his actions; hardly anyone ever was. Once she found out what he was an Undead, any master-servant connection they could could have had was severed and he became nothing but a target for her. But he was too grateful to her to do that. Even if she hated him and wished him dead, it didn't change the fact that it was because of her and her alone that he had been saved from the Kiln.

Raziel looked up at the sky wearily. It was still raining, but it had turned into a light drizzle now. Despite everything that had happened, the time was actually just past noon: The Familiar Show, and incidentally the attack, had started early in the morning and it had ended early as well. This wasn't a war of attrition or a long and drawn out fight - It was a slaughter for both sides. The quickness of it all still left everyone grasping and trying to understand what exactly happened.

He let out a tired breath. He needed to walk, to clear his mind. He was just thankful that one of the Water Mage's kind enough to waterproof his bandages. He hated changing into these things; they always made them too tight. Hmm, maybe he should go into one of the nearby tents. The rain was relaxing, but he wanted to find shelter, especially since he wasn't wearing anything on his upper body.

He shivered slightly. Since his armor was destroyed, he had chosen to discard it both to make it easier for him to move and for the healers to have an easier time bandaging him. While forgoing upper clothing might have garnered him a few stares normally, just about most of the patients here were cut off from their tunics in order to see their wounds easier. No one would look twice at him being bare-chested considering everything that had happened. And at least he still kept his pants. THAT would have garnered him some stares.

He walked aimlessly around the field for a few minutes. The Cardinal was still doing his prayer and he could make some familiar faces in the crowd surrounding him. He could see Guiche, his head bowed respectfully to one of the Knights being honored and placing a rose on top of his body. Based on the expression on his face, he must have known the Knight either casually or closely.

Kirche was there as well, though she stood off to the side off the crowd and was leaning back against a tree with her arms crossed in front of her. She caught his gaze and winked at him, giving out a strained smile. Many of her peers had congratulated her, calling her a true noble and a hero, but she didn't pay attention to the praise. Seeing the dead was a sobering experience, after all.

He couldn't find Tabitha anywhere, though that was understandable. She must've been resting now, tired from the strain of keeping the air bubble over such a large area without respite. Overdoing magic tended to cost one their physical health, as Griggs had told him. It was tiring on both the mind and the body, though Seath was pretty much living proof of the former. Insane dragon idiot.

Off to the corner he could see a lone tent; this one red in color. That might be a good place for him to rest. Giving one last look at the gathered crowd of mixed status, he walked to the tent's entrance and made to enter the cloth structure.

"How many casualties?" The voice sounded familiar. The headmaster? "The attack took place only at a short time, but those bandits left quite a mess in the short time they were here." Right, it was the headmaster.

"Over two dozen so far; most of them Knights." That was the bald professor...Baldy? He forgot his name, "And that's just those we've identified. We still haven't counted those who died in the initial blast nor those who are in clinic right now being treated for their injuries. There are also people who are still missing, like Miss. Longueville."

Raziel raised a hand up slowly to the tent flap before stopping. No doubt it was a private conversation. He mentally sighed in relief at the fact that he had left Derflinger behind in one of the tents at his request; something about rust staining his blade. If he were here now he might have decided to talk and attract the attention of the two arguing staff inside.

"Ah...but how many students were killed?" The headmaster's voice had taken a weary tone, unlike the casual tone from before.

"...None so far," Baldy (He was spending too much time with Derflinger) sighed, "Some Wind user students were attacked and left bleeding, but for the most part any student was taken captive in the hopes that they could be ransomed. It appears that the bandits took the chance to try and kidnap the students in the hope of ransoming them later back to their families. The visitors who came earlier weren't so lucky."

In Raziel's experience, Bandit's tended to make horrible allies. He still remembered the guardian - and he used that term loosely - in the Darkroot Garden. The guy was the most chaotic among all of them and didn't even hesitate to slice through his teammates in order to try and get at him. Bandit's were outlaws because they decided that they cared little for anyone but themselves. It didn't surprise him much that they had disobeyed Cesare's orders for capture.

"Then, I suppose we should Thank Brimir," The headmaster replied, "As much as I hate to say it, we had gotten lucky that 'only' the visitors are confirmed to have been killed."

It was sad, and more than a little despicable, but Osman couldn't deny the fact that to the nobility the life of even a single noble was worth the deaths of a hundred commoners. Neither he nor Professor Colbert liked it, but they were staff of the Academy and they needed to place the nobility first in times of crisis like this. They needed to make sure that all of the students survived and, failing that, try and console the families in the hopes that the other nobles don't use their deaths as ammunition in order to extort from the school. Everything came down to politics and semantics.

"Raziel, what are you doing?" The confused Undead turned around slowly and came face to face (assuming he looked down) with his master, "I told you to stay still and let the healers patch you up, didn't I?" She wasn't angry, which was odd considering who he was talking to. Now she just sounded...tired, or worn.

She looked better that she did before. The cuts on her cheeks had been healed - no doubt by that 'water magic' - and there were no more traces of blood or tears from before. Granted she was still wearing her stained uniform, but she at least had the decency to wear a brown cloak in order to keep herself dry. She looked almost like Rhea in a way.

"I did," He replied, somewhat annoyed. Despite the deadened cells in his body, he was capable of feeling differences in the temperature, if only to a marginally lesser extent compared to normal people. And now that he had been sitting in the drizzling rain for a while, he was beginning to regret discarding his armor in favor of going bare, no matter how much more comfortable it would be.

"Master-" He reached his hand out to her before holding back. She had recoiled from him, her face flinching and her hands tightening their grip around her cloak. Vaguely he could see her shoulders shaking from underneath the thick cloak she wore. She was scared of him. Scared that he would snap her neck or burn her alive like he did to her captors earlier.

Raziel looked to the side, unwilling to face her. She was afraid of him now, just like he had expected.

They continued the silent stalemate before the pinkette went by him slowly and opened the flap of the tent, using her free hand to gesture at him to follow. Raziel looked up at the gray skies before quickly following his master inside. She hadn't said anything, but he was obviously expected to come here at some point. It was likely how she found him.

* * *

"Ah, Miss Valliere and Mr. Familiar, come in!" Professor Colbert bowed politely, gesturing at the seats next to table at the center of the small tent, "I know its a bother to you right now given everything that's happened, but we would like to ask you some questions about what happened earlier. As we understand it, you two had seen something that none of the other students have."

The two teenagers - though it might not have been accurate to call one of them that - nodded silently before sitting down at the chair's allotted to them. There wasn't much else at the tent; just a few lamps and some mattresses for anyone who needed to rest. It was a hastily put up tent made for protection against the rain, so comfort wasn't exactly a priority.

Colbert looked uncomfortably at the distance between the two of them. They were trying to avoid one another, "My apologies. Would you prefer it if we did this some other time? I understand if answering questions is too hard for you two."

"No, please continue!" Louise interrupted quickly, "Raziel and I are simply tired from today's events, that's all. We shall answer to the best of our abilities."

Colbert looked at Old Osmond uncomfortably, the Headmaster giving an unhelpful shrug. Truth be told, neither of them wanted to do this either. They were both tired from the rescue efforts earlier and, despite everything that had happened, they needed to find out what exactly what had been stolen from the sacred vault. They'd seen the Golem through the smoke and figured out quite easily that the bandits weren't attacking purely for their own sake.

"Mr. Familiar, please take my cloak," The bald professor sighed and unclasped his cloak, offering it to the younger male. He would need it more than he did.

Raziel looked at the offered cloak suspiciously before hesitantly accepting it. Colbert watched quietly as the smaller male wrapped the cloak around him. The frail teen looked somewhat sad, shivering in the overgrown cloth.

But first things first, they needed to disclose a few things to Ms. Valliere.

"Ahem," Colbert coughed awkwardly, starting the conversation "Well, Miss Valliere, I know this might come as a weird question, but do you know what exactly who your Familiar is?"

Louise's eyes widened and she could feel her body freeze up in shock. They knew. They knew that her Familiar was some kind of...she didn't even know what he was! She glanced at him nervously. He looked human enough, but he had ignored a knife being imbedded into his neck till she pointed it out to him. And he was using magic! Without a wand! He wasn't just a Mage.

Raziel didn't bother looking at her. How ironic. Just a few days ago he had met these two and the headmaster asked him if he was human like them. He had answered that he was, assuming that there were other Undead like him in this school. But he was wrong, there was no one else like him here. He looked down at his hands and sighed.

The armor had hidden it well, but the true extent of his physical damages were obvious now that he wasn't wearing the protective suit. His hands were still thin and his physique barely had any muscle to it, so much that his casual carrying and use of Derflinger would've been seen as a miracle by any experienced swordsman. To anyone who hadn't seen him fighting, they would've thought he was frail or sickly.

"I...I don't..." Louise stuttered out. This was so embarrassing.

Alright, they needed to start slow then, "Miss. Valliere, do you remember what exactly happened on the day of the summoning festival?"

Of course she did. None of her peers were willing to talk about it, and most were content to mock it was smoke and mirrors, but she still remembered. The smell of the smoke invading her nostrils, the heat of the fire in front of her, and then Raziel himself. The flaming corpse animated by some kind of sinister magic, walking towards like a monster straight out of a horror novel.

"Ever since that day there have been no incidents, but we never did find out what exactly happened. Do you have any idea-"

"Could we please cut the formalities?" The three Mages looked at the solitary Undead, "You dance around the issue like it is something that should be handled delicately. I prefer it if we all speak our mind."

"What exactly do you mean?" Osmond asked curiously, "We are speaking the truth when we say that we know nothing about the summoning that took place a few weeks ago," He smiled underneath his long beard, "In fact, I think its safe to say that only you really know about what happened back then, whether you remember it or not. All we know is that Miss. Valliere had summoned you and caused an incident due to appearing as a monster."

"Appear as one? You dance with words," Raziel sighed, "I may appear human to all of you, but I am an abomination that most humans would see as a monster. Master has seen what I am capable of, what I am able to survive when I killed those who . That should be proof enough of what you need to know."

The headmaster and professor turned from Raziel to Louise. Immediately the inept Mage looked down and started twiddling her thumbs nervously. How could she explain what she'd seen? She could barely believe it herself. It was almost too surreal even for her. And she'd heard the stories of what her mother did during her service to the corps.

"Miss. Valliere, could you please tell us what you saw? It would help us understand what happened," Colbert urged gently. They were the only people in the area when the Golem attacked. They were also the only two close by when they found the dead bodies of the few escaping bandits. So whatever happened, it was either they were responsible or they had seen who was responsible.

"He..." She stopped. What was she supposed to say? That her Familiar used magic? That he ignored a knife stabbed into his neck till she pointed it out? No one would believe her. They would call her insane and laugh at her explanations as the imaginings of a confused teen who had brain damage. She couldn't explain it no matter how she said it.

Raziel looked at his master's fidgeting and frowned. She was nervous, something he never took as a good sign. In the days he'd known her, the only time he ever saw her become nervous was reading some letters that she claimed were from 'family'. Anger or irritation was her usual mood, occasionally sprinkled with happiness when she got a good result from her classes. Nervousness was something else.

"I think...it will be easier if I show you," Raziel interjected.

Louise turned to him and tried to voice a complaint before clamming up. He had a point. She wasn't going to be able to explain anything without showing them anything. He was probably going to show them how his weird magic worked.

Raziel searched the sides of his lower armor for a moment before pulling out what he needed: A dagger. Louise unconsciously fidgeted in her seat. It was the dagger that had cut into her and the same one that had been impaled into his neck. She should've known he would keep it with him. Whether he was aware of it or not, his actions heavily indicated that he had a morbid sense of humor about him.

"Mr. Familiar, what do you hope to-" Raziel tightened his grip on the dagger before stabbing it onto the palm of his left hand. Colbert grimaced at the action, though he was doing marginally better than Louise, who seemed to be hyperventilating in her seat. Amazingly, Headmaster Osmond only gave a slightly raised eyebrow at the action and didn't even seem that surprised.

Raziel twitched slightly at the injury before twisting the dagger painfully in his hand. It hurt, but it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with given everything that had happened. He twisted it a few more times before pulling it out quickly and depositing the dagger onto the table. His master wasn't even looking at him anymore.

"Does this answer your question?" Raziel raised his hand and pointed the wound at the the adults. Colbert wondered what he was trying to show before he realized it: Blood. There was no blood, not even a single drop. He rubbed his eyes and checked again, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He could see the injury, the skin that had been displaced by the blade, but the hole was empty and he couldn't smell the metallic odor of blood. It was as if he was empty.

"Fascinating..." Osmond mumbled to himself, rubbing his beard in a sagely manner, "It appears you share qualities with someone I knew from the past...well, that's a story for another time," He waved off Colbert's and Louise's surprised gaze, "As surprising as this display is, there's very little we can say to it. What exactly are you trying to show us?"

Raziel was getting irritated. Did they want him to say it out loud? There may have been no Undead here, but that didn't mean they didn't exist! They were mocking him now, he was sure of it.

"Do you wish me to spell it out?" He sighed irritably when they nodded, "I am an Undead, a monster that cannot be killed. I do not bleed, I do not age, I do not die. Death has loosened its grip on me. I am a decayed corpse animated by a curse that the God's of this world gave to human's in order to prolong their rule. I am not like you, despite how similar I look."

No one said a word. What he was saying was impossible. Life beyond death, something that not even Brimir or the legendary elves were capable of. Louise steeled herself and looked at him again. He said he was a corpse animated by magic, but she couldn't see that. She was afraid of him, scared to even go near him, but she couldn't see it. All she saw was a young man who looked frail despite his actions.

"An Undead?" Colbert was the first to speak, "That's impossible. You speak of the death returned to life as if it is something common. Magic may be powerful, and many times it has been used to take life, but the act of bringing the dead back from the abyss is impossible except for possibly void magic," He pointed at Raziel's left hand, "You may have the runes, but that does not make you a simple Golem."

Runes? Raziel looked down at his hands again. Derflinger said something about them marking his status as a Familiar. But what did they mean it didn't make just a Golem?

Raziel scowled. This made no sense. Everyone knew of the Undead; they were the reason the world was in shambles. Society was collapsing hard because of the Hollows. Every ally could turn into a mindless monster at a seconds notice. That was why they were all siphoned to the Undead Asylum.

That's what he assumed, at least. He woke up at the asylum with no prior memories and he had only found out from Oscar why people were sent there after he had managed to escape. His memories were fragmented, and the memories that Derflinger had showed him were too confusing to make sense of. He highly doubted he was some kind of aristocrat.

"I will show you proof," Raziel picked up the dagger and brought it across the bandages surround his neck. The pieces of cloth fell to the ground and he pointed at the bottom of his neck, "The Darksign, the symbol that marks all of the Undead."

They all looked at where he was pointing at. At the base of his neck, there was a small circle that looked like it had been burned into his skin. But what was this supposed to prove? It looked like a wound that had been burned closed.

"Um, Mr. Familiar, I'm sorry to say that we have no idea what you're trying to imply," Raziel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at Colbert's words. They still didn't understand? "Uh...lets try something else," He rummaged through his uniform and pulled out a worn roll of paper, "I was going to use this for my trip, so its lucky that I brought this with me."

Colbert laid the scroll carefully on the table before unfolding it: A map. Raziel blinked; landmasses that he didn't understand or had no knowledge of. He could see borders and names he could recall Siesta mentioning to him. Albion, Germania, Gallia, Romalia, and Tristain. The names of the countries or places that these people inhabited.

"Could you tell me where you came from? We may be able to understand more if we ascertained where you came from."

Raziel nodded and observed the map carefully. Germania and Gallia had the biggest landmasses, followed by the small states of Romalia, Tristain, and finally Albion. The lands were all connected, with the exception of Albion to the northeast. This was a full map? He couldn't see any of the place he had heard about before.

"Not...here," Raziel mumbled, looking up at Colbert, "Where is Lordran? Carim? Astora? Surely you must know the location of Catarina?" He looked down at the map again. Where was Anor Londo? He doubted that the God's stronghold and their main building wouldn't be on a full map. Where was this place? Twin moons and no corruption, unlike everything else.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Familiar, I'm afraid I have no idea what's you're talking about," Colbert answered hesitantly, "This is the full map of Halgekenia. The only other locations I can think of are the elven lands to the east past Rub a' Khali, but all that's there is dessert. Do you remember much sand from your hometown?"

"...No..." Raziel sat down at his seat again and sighed, "Lordran has...stones, forests, large bodies of water. Oolacile is a place with many trees and majestic buildings, but not much sand."

Now this was confusing. Osmond sighed at the explanation; it was one he'd heard long before in his youth. A smiling man who claimed to be from a land called 'Oolacile' - the same one from that popular fairy tale book - and using magic and weaponry that was alien to him. It seems his savior and Miss. Valliere's Familiar had similar circumstances.

"How did you become Miss. Valliere's Familiar, if I may ask?" Osmond asked.

Raziel turned to his master before looking away quickly, "She...saved me..." He started slowly, "I do not know how, and I care little for her reason, but she had ended my torment and I am grateful to her for doing so. I doubt I could ever repay her." She was constantly angry, bossy, dismissive, and easy to hate. But she had saved him, and that was something he wouldn't be able to repay.

Louise looked surprised at the explanation briefly before shaking her head. She needed to focus, "We're getting nowhere, Professor," She interjected forcefully before he could ask more questions, "He told you he was an Undead and I saw him get impaled in the neck with barely a reaction. He called himself a monster earlier. I saw him kill people. Why aren't you more shocked by this!?"

Colbert rubbed his bare head nervously, "Well, truth be told, I'm actually very shocked, but my mind is still trying to process what he's saying. After all, an Undead is something that's never happened before or been recorded in our long history. And despite everything he's saying, I can't see anyone but a teen wrapped in a cloak that's too big for him. Hardly a monster like the one he says."

"Yes, yes, same as Mr. Colbert," Osmond remarked dismissively.

...She couldn't believe this. These two, a respected teacher and the headmaster of the academy, both of them were almost disregarding everything Raziel had said. Just because he looked normal didn't change the fact that he was, essentially, a sentient construct! He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, and he apparently couldn't be killed either! And they were ignoring it!

"Raziel, show them what you did earlier!" He gave her a confused look, "You know, what you did earlier! Your Brimir forsaken wandless magic!" She yelled, almost hysterically at the injured teen.

Wandless magic? Now Colbert knew she had to be joking. The runes indicated he was a Gandalfr, meaning he was a master of all weaponry, but that didn't mean the runes granted him magic; and wandless magic at that.

"Understood," Raziel sighed and started unwrapping the bandaged on his right hand. The skin underneath was still burnt, but no longer raw and pulsating like earlier. The wounds he sustained from the Kiln took almost a week to heal, but regular injuries like those that came from fire or dagger impalement were easy enough to recover from.

He mumbled the incantation under his breath and his palm was instantly set aflame. Colbert grabbed for his wand to try and put out the fire before stopping. He wasn't in pain and the fire wasn't eating away at his skin, "Pyromancy," Raziel intoned, holding his hand out to the two of them, "Master calls it 'wandless magic', but Pyromancy never required anything more than the flame inside ones body,"

Raziel looked at the flame and frowned. During his time in Lordran, he had made his Flame stronger by sacrificing many souls to feed its flames. But now the power was gone, back to its base form. Damn it, he was hoping that the flames of chaos would keep burning inside him, but now all that was flickering in his palm was a regular flame. Nothing impressive.

"You...can do do this without a wand?" Colbert adjusted his glasses and took a closer look at the flames. They weren't illusions; he could see the vibrant color and he could feel the heat emanating from them. The bald professor looked between the flame and Raziel. There was no secret, no wand he kept hidden. He was doing this by himself.

"Does this mean you're a noble, then?" He continued, "Yes, it might explain why you-"

"I told you: I am an Undead," Raziel reminded, "Pyromancy is nothing impressive; anyone with the willingness to learn can harness its power. I am more concerned that you seem to not care that I am an Undead. I had expected you to try and transport me to the Asylum...though, given everything that's happened, I have my doubts if you even know where it is."

That was mostly because they had no idea how being an Undead made him different. He obviously wasn't a mindless Construct, and he wasn't animal-like in intelligence, so it was hard to distinguish him from a regular human. He didn't kill people and steal their blood like vampire's did either, so him being an Undead essentially boiled down to saying he was a monster.

The people of this land never experienced the Hollows nor had they seen their loved ones rise up from the dead in order to kill them. Undead weren't despised simply because of their status, but also because of the danger they posed to those around them once they lost the will to live. But neither of them had any idea of the dangers Undead posed. They hadn't seen him burn a man alive or tear through the bandits like they were made of paper.

There was also the fact that the human mind unconsciously blocked out anything it didn't comprehend. So no matter how much he yelled it out, only his master seemed to actually care about the fact that he was an Undead. And only because she was forced into a situation that made her unable to question what she'd seen. Now that everything was calm again, Colbert and Osmond had the luxury of being able to deny it or rationalize.

"I'm sorry. As I said, I'm still in shock," Colbert laughed stiffly, "Still, I'm interested in how you did that magic of yours. Wandless magic has only been recorded to have been done by Elves or Vampires...and you've made who you are abundantly clear to us already."

They didn't didn't know how to react, really. Should they have been afraid? He wasn't attacking them now and, seeing him shivering in the cloak, they had a hard time believing that he could be any sort of threat. But then again, one didn't need physical perfection in order to be a complete threat. Many powerful Mages were quite out of shape and relied solely on magic to see them through.

It was the 'wandless magic' that concerned them the most. His ears weren't pointed so he wasn't an Elf, and he didn't drink blood - for void's sake, he didn't have any blood - so they couldn't call him a Vampire either. Was he part of a race that simply called himself Undead? Because unless he was rotting corroding right in front of them, it wouldn't have been fair to call him dead just yet.

But they had seen a lot of things at their age. Threat's were easy enough to deal with.

"Well then, Mr. Familiar, I must admit your circumstances are certainly...unique," Colbert tested carefully, "Yes, you are a unique individual. Able to perform magic like any noble, able to survive without blood, you must be unique among where you come from."

"Unique?" Raziel almost laughed, "Undead are commonplace. It is your knowledge that worries me. Do you never experience the dead returning to life? Or your friends and loved ones Hollowing and attacking you? You act as if I am something you have never seen before."

"I'm relieved to say we do not," Osmond answered, "We bury our dead and mourn their passing, but we move on from the loss. Perhaps in the land you came from, a place that is not known to us, this is common. But here in our land, we do not have what you call 'Undead' or 'Hollows'. It is highly likely that you're the only one of your kind here. And I must admit we are ill-equipped to deal with your circumstances."

Well they weren't threatening to burn him at the stake, so he didn't actually care what they thought of him or how 'ill-equipped' they were. They didn't even seem to mind that he was an Undead to begin with, caring more about the fact that he was capable of Pyromancy than the fact that he was an unnatural corpse animated by unknown magic.

How ironic. From where he came from he was one of the simple masses of Undead; a shard in a castle of glass. But here, no one else shared his...situation. He was something that these people had never seen before. Not those bandits, not the people from this school, and especially not his master. It made his former title as the "Chosen Undead" almost appropriate.

"Well, I would like to ask more questions, but I'm afraid we'll have to cut this short," He pointed at his shoulder where a wet mouse was currently sitting on, "Chuchu has just informed me that they've found Miss. Longueville injured on the school grounds and I believe it would be appropriate if Professor. Colbert and I attended to her. We shall call on you again later after we have discussed with her where she was for the attack. We still have to ask you what you saw near the vault's location."

"And, at least for now, let us keep the nature of our discussion secret. Given everything that's happened, we don't want to incite another panic after everything that's happened."

Colbert bowed respectfully to the two of them before leaving to follow the headmaster. It was just the two of them now; a situation Louise was hoping to avoid given everything that had happened. She looked around the tent, desperate to try and find something else to focus on other than her Familiar.

"...You are scared of me," Raziel broke the awkward silence, "Your actions say it all."

"I'm...not scared. I..I mean, what kind of Master would be scared of their Familiar? Stop speaking nonsense, Raziel!" She replied back hotly, doing her best to try and keep her stuttering in check, "So...So what if you...you're an Undead!? That doesn't change the fact that you're my Familiar!"

She was lying. He could see the signs of it. She didn't want to admit it, but she was afraid, "There is no need for you to lie," He gave a small, strained smile, "We are...monsters. Many accuse us of being simple remnants trying to copy our former lives. Your fear is not unjustified, and it changes nothing of how I view you. You saved me, and that is something I will never forget no matter how much you hate me."

Despite his words, he still retained the same emotionless tone he had used since the day they had met. Louise scowled. Even after everything he refused to show how he felt: Sadness, Happiness, Anger. The smile on his face was hollow - She knew it from experience. Smiling just because you wanted to put other people at ease. She could see it; his smile was broken.

"...Stop it..." She slammed her hand on the table, "Stop acting like that. You say this with a smile on your face and I can't even understand what's going through your head. Why aren't you angry? You saved me despite your own injuries and I'm too busy being scared that I can't even look at your properly. Be angry, be sad, be...something! Just stop acting like this isn't bothering you."

"...What is it that you wish me to do?" He asked back slowly, "Do you wish me to say that I regret saving you? That I should have let you die?" He shook his head, "No matter what happens now, I have made my choice. It is wasteful to spend time regretting what could have been done and it is better to await the results.

Louise sighed, this time in frustration; fear and caution being pushed away by her rapidly boiling anger, "Then tell me what exactly you are," She gritted out, "You call yourself an Undead, but you never explained what exactly you are. Are you a corpse with no free will? Are you a spirit inhabiting that body even if it doesn't belong to you? Tell me so I can understand."

"I am not a spirit possessing this body," Raziel replied, somewhat exasperatedly, "All of us who are Undead were reborn because of the Darksign and we retain our memories and personality from before our death. Rest assured that we didn't lose our free will or our ability to make decisions for ourselves."

"So you were killed?" He nodded. Though he had no memories of how it happened, it didn't really matter. Given how life went in the world surrounding Lordran, he was probably some no-name warrior for hire who was killed after he bit off more than he could chew. Given how there were other bodies in the cell he was staying in, he was most likely dumped there because no one cared enough to even identify him from the other dead bodies.

"Why would anyone kill you?" She asked warily. He shrugged and answered that he didn't know, "What do you mean you don't know? I thought you said that you kept all the memories you had from before you were killed? Or are you telling me that you're not an Undead and you were lying from the start."

"I did not lie," He was beginning to get slightly irritated, "I awoke in the Asylum with no prior memories, the reason for which I am not aware of. I asked Solaire of this and he told me that it was unusual, though it was something I would not be able to fix," He let out a slow breath, "It matters little. My personality is my own as is my will. What you choose to do with that knowledge is up to you."

She chewed on her lip nervously. He was an Undead, a person who had come back from death itself and survived to live again. She'd seen what he did. He killed those bandits with barely any hesitation and he had little trouble injuring himself just to prove a point.

And despite all that, he had saved her. He confirmed it himself that he could make his own choices and he had come to rescue her despite making it clear that he expected no gratitude or praise afterwards. He could've killed her at any point and let her die today. He'd killed all those people and many more but he had done it in order to protect her and help everyone.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared," Louise finally admitted, "But...you protected me when I needed it most, and I wouldn't be a good master if I simply ignored that," She took a calming breath before turning to face him, "Regardless of who or what you are, it is my duty as your master to deal with it. So regardless of what you say, you are my Familiar. Am I understood?"

"..." Raziel stared at her blankly before turning away quickly. Louise wondered briefly why he had done so before she heard it: He was laughing. It was soft and barely noticeable given how low his voice was, but she could hear him laughing under his breath. Louise's right eye twitched slightly. He found her declaration funny? It took a lot of effort for her to say that!

"I apologize, I did not mean to offend," Raziel apologized before she could fire off her complaints, "I had simply expected a more...violent reaction from you. I thought you would end our relationship as Master and Familiar and incite a crowd to stone me to death again. I am...happy that this was not the result."

"Well then, maybe you should be thankful that I'm feeling grateful for everything you've done up to today," She rubbed her head and sighed, "Do you honestly think this makes sense to me? Resurrection is something that's only been talked of in the rarest of Brimir's legends. There are stories of how he resurrected his most trusted disciples as gratitude for the sacrifices they made for him. And yet here you are, not only claiming to be a resurrected person, but calling what happened to you a curse made from dark magics. Who would view a second chance from death as a curse?"

"Actually-"

"Not only that, but you used magic," She continued, almost hysterically, "You used fire magic without even using a wand! How am I supposed to react to that? You're using magic in a way that contradicts Brimir's teachings and is against every book and lesson we were taught since we were young."

"Master-"

"If the church of Romalia saw you now, they'd brand you a demon and a heretic and burn you at the stake," She gulped, "And as your master, they'd brand me an even bigger heretic and boil me in hot water via an inquisition! Headmaster Osmond is right, we can't tell anyone about you! The results of doing so will lead to our deaths!"

He had officially given up trying to interrupt her. He watched in slight amusement as his master continued to ramble her thoughts, imagining something he couldn't and didn't want to comprehend. She continued to do this for a few more minutes before stopping and slamming her head against the table in frustration.

"I'm scared of you right now...but I'm even more scared of what will happen to the two of us if anyone finds out about what you just said," She got up from her seat and started rummaging through the packs at the side of the tent, "You cut off your bandages earlier so we need to put them back on you before anyone start asking questions. Stay still, I still remember how to do this."

She wasn't thinking straight. Who would ask questions about his injuries now when there were dozens of others in even worse condition than he was? Still, better to keep his mouth shut in the hopes that she calmed down rather than interrupt her and send her into an even more hysterical frenzy.

"...Where did you learn to do this?" Raziel asked somewhat nervously as he stuck out his right hand, "I was under the assumption that Mages and Sorcerers relied more on their magical skills rather than their ability to mend wounds physically."

"I learned it from my mother," She stared down at the burnt arm before carefully unwrapping his old bandages, "Mother taught me when I was younger that I needed to learn skills that didn't rely on my magic alone. She also taught me about knitting and horseback riding, both of which I'm very confident in," She tried not to stare at the burnt skin as she wrapped the new bandages around his arm, "Bandaging is something that's easily learned once you figure out the steps necessary. I patched myself and the Princess up at times when we were younger. We fell off the trees a lot."

"You never talk about your family," He commented.

"Neither do you, Raziel," She sniped back, "The subject of my family never came up and it was never relevant."

"...Could you tell me about them?" He asked. At least they were conversing now.

"I suppose," Louise finished up his arm bandage before moving quickly to his neck, "My father is the Duke de la Valliere. He owns many lands and our family has always been loyal to the royal crown. My mother is the Duchess de la Valliere and married my father many years ago. She was the one who taught me when I was younger, "I have two older sisters: The eldest is the most likely heir and is about to be married to the Count of Burgundy. Big sis- I mean, Miss de la Fontaine has her own circumstances and was given property and a different family name by my father because of it."

Raziel didn't miss the fact that she hadn't named any of her family members. Even when expounding on family one needed to be respectful, he supposed. He observed it was common practice among the nobility: When Guiche was forced to call his father by name, he called him 'General Gramont' rather than any given name. And when he apologized to his master he called his sibling 'My brother' rather than specifying which one. Nobility took their titles and names seriously, it seemed.

Still, he couldn't imagine his master having sisters. He shuddered slightly. If his master was so quick to lose her temper, what more for her older sisters? There was always the chance that one of her sisters was sickly and gentle like the Fair Lady was to Quelaag, his mind reminded quickly, but he wouldn't hold his breath. If it was indeed true, he would slap himself in the face.

"We're done with the neck," She announced. Raziel moved to stand up before Louise pushed him back down, "And where do you think you're going? I said we were done with the neck, not that we were finished. Aren't you forgetting something?"

Raziel looked down at his left palm and groaned. He had nearly forgotten about that. There were still marks on his palm where blood should have been. Suppressing the urge to sigh, he raised his left hand and offered it to Louise.

Louise took hold of his hand and observed it carefully. Other than the holes and displaced skin, she could still see the markings of his runes. Derflinger had told them about his suppressed memories not too long ago. Could the runes be the reason why he claimed he couldn't remember anything? It would certainly explain why he was so easy to order around.

"I have to say, I'm surprised at your explanation," She started, "You act like a warrior and you talk about death so casually, but you look barely older than I am. How old are you, anyway?" She asked curiously.

Ah...that was something he would have a hard time answering. One one hand he had spent a hundred years or so burning in the Kiln, meaning it wouldn't have been a stretch to call him an old man. On the other hand, he was really only 'aware' for about a year before said burning, so calling himself a child would have also been accurate...if extremely degrading.

If he had to take account his physical appearance, then he could call himself an adult, which was a middle ground that he was comfortable with. But there was also the fact that the current body he harbored now appeared to be that of a young teenager, which complicated things somewhat.

"I am old enough," He answered vaguely.

Louise scowled at the half-answer before sighing. She wouldn't be able to get anything out of him, "Its not just your age that bothers me. You don't look like a warrior. Heck, you barely look like you can lift a sword," She gripped his hand and raised his arm, "Thin as well. Barely and muscles to speak of. You look more like Guiche than any kind of warrior."

Raziel resisted the urge to frown. It was true that his appearance was severely lacking now. The worst part of it all was the he had no idea why this was even the case. He appeared to be muscled back in his memories, with the face of a grown man. But now he looked frail, almost androgynous in a way. The only consolation he could find was that many of the other male students and some of the servants seemed to share this trait. He at least took pride in the fact that his skills and strength hadn't been affected by his new body.

"There, I'm done," She wrapped the last of the bandage around his palm before sighing in relief, "The next time someone asks you for proof, try to do it in a way that doesn't involve injuring yourself. I don't want to do this again, Raziel."

"...Why are you calling me that?" He asked suddenly, "Not too long ago you called me as 'Familiar'. But now you call me by the name I told you off a few days prior. What is the reason?"

Louise paused. Why had she been calling him that? She hadn't even realized she was doing it till he had pointed it out. She had called out to him by that name and it was only after that when he rescued her. She'd been doing it out of reflex, she supposed. She still didn't feel safe given everything that had happened and called him by that name unconsciously as a defense mechanism.

"There no reason," She shrugged, "I could go back to calling by 'Familiar' if you wish."

"No need." He found it more appealing to be called by a name rather than a designation. He always hated it when people called him 'O Chosen Undead'.

"Good," She nodded and wrapped her cloak over herself, "I'm going back to the healer's tents. Princess Henrietta is helping with the curing efforts and I promised her I would check up on her when I had the chance."

"I am going with you," He didn't trust that princess to be alone with his master. Well, that and he doubted a princess actually doing anything for anyone but herself. Monarch's like Dusk were the exception, not the norm.

"...Alright, but I don't want to see any aggression from you, am I understood?" He let out an annoyed breath but nodded all the same, "Good. Then keep that cloak wrapped tightly around you. We're going to visit the Princess and I don't want my Familiar showing indecency to her royal Highness because he decided to get rid of his armor." And hopefully they could find a tunic he could put on.

Fine. He wouldn't be aggressive, but passive aggressiveness was fair game.

* * *

**Now to address some plot holes: I mentioned multiple times that he doesn't sweat or bleed, but this is contradicted in-game by the 'Bleed' status and the fact that one Pyromancy allows you to sweat to lower damage. These are my own additions to the story. Hey, this is called fanfiction, so I'm allowed to add my own stuff as long as it doesn't obliterate canon. Though given the nature of this story, canon is already on the breaking point. **

**And I know some of you are disappointed that only Louise, Osmond, and Colbert talked about his condition. To be honest, dragging over Colbert and Osmond was already a stretch. Kirche, Guiche, and Tabitha in the room would be breaking the suspension of disbelief since they'd have no decent reason to be there given what just happened. They have their own things to deal with.**

**Or the fact that their reactions are pretty calm. Ask yourself this: If a classmate or co-worker told you he was an Undead, would you be screaming immediately or try to process and rationalize? Colbert and Osmond have been through a lot, so it would be way out of character for them to start yelling hysterically rather than trying to understand. Even Saito telling them he was from another world got one excited outburst from Colbert at most before he calmed down immediately. Osmond didn't even seem to care. Louise is the only one who would be panicking and she's doing her best to try and stay calm throughout the chapter.**

**Twigon Halolover - Yes, but to compensate for that I made him more durable. The cumulative abuse he took during chapter 11 should've been enough to kill him twice over, but he survived. He also has some low key regeneration like the one the "Sanctus" shield gives you when you equip it.**

**Keeper of all Lore - He has all the skills; you don't actually need to be capable of using them just to learn them. **

**Necrofantasia - Given everything that's happened, going out and yelling out to everyone that he's an Undead wouldn't be the best idea. Louise treats him better now, but that's about it for the moment. This story is slow going and not everyone is going to instantly find out he's an immortal animated corpse. More people find out gradually as the story goes. That and, unlike Louise and the others, his magic is alien and requires no foci to cast. They're more curious about that than whether he's some kind of aristocrat.**

**Demons Anarchy - Nope, just a random pic I found. I think its supposed to represent Manus (Sif was in the picture originally), but I thought it looked appropriate enough that I used it as a cover. Generally, covers are just there because I think they look nice.**

**Kraut - Thank you for the long review. Don't worry, its no bother to read at all. Anyway, don't worry: I also planned to write about the white/black phantoms and their actions. And about Cesare and Micheletto: I liken them to Pinwheel. Pinwheel is a strong necromancer with who knows how many years of knowledge...but he's up against a person whose likely killed God's at this point. Same deal here: Cesare and Micheletto are genuinely threatening bandits...but they were fighting against an angry Undead with Chaos Flames. It would've been an asspull if they somehow put up a fight after Raziel just demolished the Golem beforehand.**

**Kuwuse - Fixed!**

**AnubisGundam0 - That comes later:)**

**Oh, and this has crossed my mind before, but what do you guys think of an Adventure Time and Zero no Tsukaima crossover? Not a full crossover, mind you - Too busy with this story as it is - but just random oneshots and humorous drafts. Like Finn and Jake instantly foiling Wardes plans because they could tell he was evil from that evil goatee he has or Zombie!Wales kidnapping attempt failing...because the Ice King saved Henrietta in order to kidnap her himself. Would certainly be more lighthearted than this.**


	13. Louise falls for Raziel (Not that way)

**School's starting in a week or so, so updates are going to slow to a crawl again soon. Oh well, hopefully this chapter satisfies you guys till the next one starts:)**

**Confession time guys: When I first started this fic, it was pretty much a half-parody and I didn't take this seriously - Hence why after the burning intro Raziel pretty much acts like a baby learning about the first steps with exaggerated reactions, along the blatant game references to stats. It was only at about chapter 6, when everyone told me that the game mechanics were annoying as hell, that I began to take it more seriously. The addition of the bandits was also one of the key decisions, since originally I wasn't going to bother putting a distraction for Fouquet and was going to make it more similar to "Familiar Souls" version.  **

**Raziel's personality also shifted somewhat. In the original plan he always talked in one word sentences or didn't talk at all, regardless if he got his voice back. He was also more naive - Notably, he didn't have his (stupid) prejudice against princesses and believed most humans were evil to the core. This changed as well, as you can see from his dialogue in the previous chapter where he's more verbose and actually talks with Louise and Derflinge and the coming conversations with Siesta. **

**Well, that's it :) Hope everyone enjoys this chapter. The next one is going to be a breather before the Count Mott arc.**

* * *

They had walked right into an argument.

"Princess, please consider your health for a moment," Cardinal Mazarin exclaimed, clapping his hands together in a begging gesture that seemed unsuited for a man of his position, "Its hasn't been too long since the attack and you haven't stopped helping the healers since then. Any more of this and you'll collapse from exhaustion. Please let the Academy's staff and the other student's take over now."

"Please don't be so selfish, Cardinal," Henrietta argued back, "These people need all the help they can afford. You yourself are the only clergyman around here, so they need your assistance in laying the dead to rest as well. I am a water Mage and that enables me to help in healing the injured. Our positions are similar, and yet I do not see you avoiding your responsibility."

"I am not placing myself at risk in doing so," He answered back patiently, "I was lucky enough that the teacher's of this Academy managed to find me and the remaining Knights early in the attack. But you were nearly killed just now and need to take a rest. Straining yourself will only make things harder for everyone in the long run. Please think clearly and rest."

Raziel looked to his master and found her standing stiff as a Golem, intertwining her hands nervously under her thick cloak. She was nervous, most likely due to the clergyman's presence. Unknown to him, the man in front of him was Cardinal Mazarin, the official 'second' of the royal family and the person who was considered to be the second most powerful person in the country.

Like all of the countries in Halkeginia, religion was considered very important in both politics and tradition. And Cardinal Mazarin had the distinction of being both a cardinal - along with being one of the possible candidates for Pope - and being politically active due to Queen Marian's refusal to take the throne after her husband's death; she was still in mourning despite the time that had elapsed. There were already rumors that he was going to ascend to the throne in place of the royal family.

"I'm fine, Cardinal," Henrietta argued back, a slight anger beginning to drip into her tone, "As we're speaking now, both the students and the visitors are in pain from the smoke and their injuries. Is it not my place to help because I am able? Do Brimir's teachings not say that those who have magic should lead by example?"

The arguing continued back and forth for a while longer. His master was paying attention to the verbal showdown, soaking in every word like it was gospel. Neither the old man and the tyrant in the making had noticed the two of them, something Raziel was happy about. Hopefully his master would tire of being ignored and they could leave this place.

"Ah, Louise!" Abyss take him, she noticed," Cardinal, I must speak with Miss de la Valliere about something personal. I trust you understand?" She smiled sweetly, although everyone in the tent understood the meaning - There was no room for argument and her words were final. Typical Princess, Raziel mused, always putting their opinions above others.

"...As you wish, Your Highness," A look of displeasure passed through the Cardinal's face before he bowed, a barely noticeable sigh escaping his lips, "I shall be outside, helping lay the souls of those who died to rest. Please take heed of my warnings and get some rest soon."

"Of course, Cardinal," She was lying. It was impressive; Raziel could see almost no signs of lies. But there was always a small sign - The smallest twitch of the finger or the smile that lasted too long. In his disjointed memories, Patches often had numerous signs as well - Awkward glances, refusal of eye contact and, most damning of all, a laugh that almost guaranteed bad news. He had to have been a fool back then not to notice his falsehoods.

Both Louise and Raziel stepped to the side in order to avoid the leaving priest. The two of them watched as he all but ran out of the tent, shaking his head and sighing the entire way. He was obviously tired; both from the nonstop sermons - which required a lot of raised arms and complicated gestures - and the argument he'd been having with the princess just now. Raziel felt sorry for him.

"I'm sorry for not taking notice of you and Mr. Familiar earlier, Louise," Henrietta bowed in apology, "I hope my argument with the Cardinal wasn't too distracting."

"N-N-Not at all, Princess!" His master bowed deeply, as was the standard for her when dealing with Princess whatever her name was, "I came here to see how you were doing, so there's no need to apologize. I'm just happy that you're alright," She smiled in relief.

She had wanted to check on Princess Henrietta first, but circumstances kept piling up: First her wounds, then being called by Mister Colbert, and finally that little talk with Raziel. In all honesty, she was still scared of him. She would probably have a hard time sleeping tonight, not to mention some bad dreams she'd no doubt be getting later on. She would have to sleep with one eye open later.

Thank goodness he wasn't some kind of soul devouring monster made of pure darkness.

"Thank you for worrying about me Louise," Henrietta nodded gratefully, "The Cardinal took me to this cabin in the hopes that I get some rest. He's simply looking out for the next in line for the throne, but its a nice sentiment all the same."

Raziel began to look around the cabin, as he took to doing whenever he tried to ignore conversations. Such carelessness would have gotten him killed back in Lordran, but here he had learned that danger was often a rarity other than times of war; of which nobles partook in as if it were a sport. Derflinger had told him stories - of the ones he could remember, at least - about wars that happened every few years either because of a power grab or because one noble felt slighted over something another noble did and declared war. Because they all knew that the best response to an insult was to declare your intent to kill.

But of course they were rarely the ones to fight it: They sat around in their chairs, drinking wine and eating fine foods as the commoner's they ruled over spilled blood for reasons they didn't understand. After all, to nobles, what were the lives of a few hundred commoners? It was like losing paws in a chess board: Easily replaceable and they felt no loss when they disappeared. Like Gods, but without power to back it up.

"Louise...I'm afraid I may have to take advantage of your kindness earlier than I thought," Henrietta frowned, "I had planned to tell you of my problems a few days from now. But the circumstances now force me to ask for your assistance sooner than I had hoped."

"What do you mean, Princess?" Louise asked, "This attack was unexpected, but surely its a separate incident from whatever troubles you?"

There were no people here, that much was obvious. Raziel walked over to one of the makeshift beds and placed a hand on it. Still warm, and he could feel the indents on where a person most likely was. It made sense for the most part: People were transported here for early healing and then either put to the clinic if their condition worsened...or added to the pile of bodies if they couldn't be saved.

"I'm afraid not," Henrietta rummaged into a pack beside her before pulling out a faded letter and offering it to her, "This was found in one of the bandits captured after the attack. He confessed that their leader gave it to him for safekeeping and that it was from their employers. Technically its supposed to be given to an official as proof of criminal activities, but I managed to ask for it temporarily till we go back to the capital."

Louise looked at the letter suspiciously before accepting it from Henrietta. The letter was worn, drenched in rainwater and bits of ash. The words were already fading due to the moistness, but she could still make them out...wait- "...I can't read it," A cipher. Louise narrowed her eyes and glared at the letter. Cipher's were commonplace for keeping secrets and, without the code-sheet, they wouldn't be able to decipher which of the symbols corresponded to which letter.

"Exactly," Henrietta sighed, "He confessed that the letter and the code-sheet were to be burned after reading the instructions. Their leader thought it would make for good blackmail material and kept the letter and code-sheet. The letter was given to him and the code-sheet was entrusted to a man they called 'Micheletto'."

Both Louise and Raziel flinched at the name, the former even coughing awkwardly. Micheletto, whoever he was, had been burned to ashes not too long ago. Even if they went back and searched for his body, there was nothing there except burnt ash and remnants of skin that had most likely been blown away by the wind at this point. And that was assuming they wanted to go back there, which they didn't.

"Y-Yes, a real shame," Louise laughed awkwardly, "A-Ahem, regardless, I can't really see how this is related to whatever troubles you, Princess."

"Though the Cipher may be unreadable, there is a mark on the origins of the letter," Henrietta took the letter back from Louise and pointed to the bottom half of the letter. There was a mark there, red in color and visually distinct. Louise leaned forward in order to get a closer look. It was a symbol of some kind. Despite the odd design, she couldn't help but think it was familiar somehow-

Wait. Those symbols, she'd seen them somewhere before. 3 years ago, when her Family visited the church of the floating continent. Many of the royal families visited the unveiling of the sacred texts found in Albion's archives. The symbol was the same one used by the high priests when sending out invitation to the royal families. The distinct drawings proved it.

"I see you still remember the symbol," Henrietta commented, "This is the symbol of the church of Albion. The stamp is rare not only because its rarely ever used, but also because only the high priests and those above them have access to the stamp."

"Princess, are you saying that the attack was ordered by the Albion church?" Louise asked nervously. The idea of it was impossible. Those who were privileged enough to wear the positions of clergymen were said to be blessed by Brimir himself. To be picked, one needed to give up their wordly possessions and even family so they could devote themselves to spreading Brimir's holy teachings. It took an individual of great mental and spiritual strength to become even a lowly priest, not to mention a high priest or a cardinal.

Raziel looked around the area one more time. Just like the previous tents, the only things there were makeshift beds, some basic medical supplies, and bags of unrelated items; most likely things that were on the people they were healing which were discarded. He knelt down and looked at one of the bags. Maybe he could find something to distract himself while they were conversing.

"Its only a suspicion," Henrietta replied, "But whether the church is involved or not is another matter entirely. What matters most is that the seal originates from Albion. I trust you have heard of the Reconquista uprising?"

Louise nodded. How could she not? The Reconquista uprising was pretty much the talk of the older nobility now. Her sister mentioned it in her letter: A coup d'etat masquerading as a revolution. A faction of nobles from Albion wanted more power than they deserved and fought against the crowning monarchy. While news of it was scarce, the latest observations were not good. Rumor was it that it was only a matter of time till Reconquista won.

"The news is grave, I'm afraid, and it hasn't gotten any better. And though I dread to ask this of you, I am in need of your help. I do not expect you to accept this, but could you please hear me out?"

"Of course, Princess," Louise nodded earnestly.

What was this thing? Raziel raised the object in his hand up. The object was small and cylindrical in shape. He traced his hand along the handle. Wooden and somewhat rough, but the thing was obviously meant for combat. It looked just like the weapon the dying bandit used on him. But how did this small thing cause him so much pain? He looked down at the bag again and found no other similar weapons. Taken or looted from one of the bandits, most likely.

"You are aware of my marriage to Germania's emperor, are you not?" Louise nodded, "The ceremony is to take place not too long now and the union of Tristain and Germania will be mutually beneficial to both sides. However, this also means many groups, and even countries, are willing to do whatever it takes to stop the union."

Louise hummed in understanding. Politics was a dirty business, as her father would say. Despite the Valliere's high positions, neither her parents or her older sisters had much love for the 'Age old game'. Her father and mother were retired, living on the fortunes and wealth their years of work afforded them and their current investments. They still involved themselves from time to time, but for the most part they were free. Her eldest sister Eleanor took a job as a magical researcher while Big sis Catt was too sickly to try a career. Louise herself didn't fancy a life in politics either.

And as much as Louise hated Germania - Bunch of savage upstarts that they were - she wasn't going to complain about it. Her childhood friend was already sacrificing a lot in order to go through with it. She could already tell by her tone that she didn't want to go through this wedding, and hearing her complaints would've made her feel worse about this.

"Right now, Albion is currently under the leadership of Prince Wales. You know him as my cousin," And more than that, though she left that unsaid, "He is in possession of a letter of great importance, and I have reason to believe that Reconquista seeks it. Two divided nations would be easier to conquer than a single unified one."

Reconquista was power hungry. Once Albion was taken, they would no doubt use their dragon riders and their air fleet to invade Tristain. Despite its place in nobility, Tristain had little in the way of standing armies, and thus they needed to make the treaty with Germania in order to sustain themselves militarily. Without that treaty, they would be forced to take on the might of Albion by themselves.

"What kind of letter is this?" Louise asked.

Henrietta looked to the side sadly, "...That I cannot tell you. But know that, if the contents of that letter were to be found, then the treaty between Germania and Tristain will crumble."

Louise's eyes widened at the news, "Then, the favor you are asking of me is..." She didn't finish her sentence - she didn't need to. The sudden shameful look Henrietta had on her face and refusal to look her in the eye all but confirmed it. She was asking her to go to Albion and get the letter back. While it was in the middle of a coup d'etat.

Even a trained soldier would hesitate.

"Princess," Louise stood closer to Henrietta before going on one knee, "I would be honored to take this task in your name. And should I die, I will make sure my last act before death claims me will be to burn that letter so no one else can use it against our beloved Tristain."

But not her. Her mother taught her that loyalty to the crown and ones family was most important in ones life. If she refused to this now, then she had no right to call herself a noble of Tristain. She suppressed the urge to shiver. She was scared of what lied ahead for her, but her friend and her country needed her. That letter would be the death of them all.

And besides, she thought, what could happen to her while she had an Undead Familiar? Her gaze changed from her friend to him. Wary of him she may have been, there was no denying that he was effective at defending her.

"Louise, I cannot thank you enough!" Henrietta took hold of Louise's hands and smiled brightly, "I know I am asking for a lot, so please know that you have my everlasting gratitude for your actions. And if you should ever need anything of me, then please do not hesitate to ask. I will be forever in your debt."

"No, Princess, I am honored to be able to serve both you and our great country!" Louise replied, just as enthusiastic, "And please do not think you owe me a debt of gratitude. Your sacrifice in marrying the king of that brutish country is more than enough!"

Raziel rolled his eyes at the dramatics. Why did these nobles insist on making a spectacle of everything? It was as if they had no indoor voices when it came to expressing their gratitude. Still, this little cylindrical thing intrigued him. He examined it closely and tapped the barrel against his palm. No sharpness and it wasn't heavy enough to be used as a club or a melee weapon. Beating someone to death with it would be inefficient.

The only other explanation was that it was some kind of crossbow or ranged weapon. But that made little sense since he couldn't see any arrows or ammunition for it. Then again, that bandit had hit him with it from a fair distance away, and the pain was stronger than any crossbow bolt or arrow. It was as if an arrow lodged itself into his body before suddenly exploding.

"Princess, when should we leave for Albion?" Louise asked, standing up from her kneeling position.

"Not for a while," Henrietta answered, "You need your rest after what happened here today and I am still trying to determine the best time to go there. Right now the Albion royal family and the separatist's are fighting a head on war. There would be little point in going there now since there's little chance you can find Prince Wales without wading into the middle of a battlefield."

"Understood-"

"But I am not sending you and Mr. Familiar there alone, Louise," She interrupted quickly, "I will be sending the head of my Griffin Knights with you for protection. You are acquainted with Viscount Wardes, I presume? He has told me a lot about you and he has volunteered to be your guide to Albion for this secret mission."

Viscount Wardes. Louise blushed; it was a name she hadn't heard in a long time. When she was but a child of six, she and the viscount - then sixteen - were engaged to one another by their parents decision. She thought she loved him, or at least she remembered doing so in her childhood memories. He was always so strong, so gentle, the epitome of nobility. She still remembered when she comforted him when she cried, saying she had strength no one else had. She almost believed it at the time, childish naivete clouding her mind.

But she hadn't seen the Viscount in ten years. Tragedy had struck his family and he withdrew from anyone, not even sending a single letter to her or anyone else he knew. At first she was sad, but sadness changed to indifference and soon she found herself thinking less and less of him. After ten long years, he became a memory at the back of her head that she dreamed of on rare nights when she remembered her childhood.

And now he was going to be the one protecting and escorting her? It was...sudden.

"Is there something wrong, Louise?" Henrietta's voice reached her ears.

"No...No, of course not, Princess," She shook her head and took a calming breath, "I was simply...surprised, is all. I hadn't seen the Viscount in ten years, so I'm surprised he remembers me."

"He spoke of you a lot," The princess smiled, "He told me that he was looking forward to seeing you again after such a long time and that he hopes that he's worthy of being your groom now."

Louise blushed again. Even after all these years, he apparently lost none of the charm that made her fall for him when she was younger. The fear of her new mission dwindled heavily and she found herself calming. With Viscount Wardes at her side, she didn't need to be afraid. He was already strong back then, there was no need to be afraid now.

Raziel shook the small weapon irritably. How was he supposed to use this thing? He could see vague images in his head - A hand squeezing some kind of trigger. But that wasn't enough to go on. Blankly he stared at his left hand; the one rune he had activated was shining dully, trying to convey the weapon's use to him as best as it could. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see any way to use this thing.

Derf had mentioned this as well. He called it a 'Flintlock', a weapon used by commoners in times of war in order to even the odds against Mages. The specific term he used was that it added 'firepower' to a person. Raziel found the term odd. This 'Flintlock' harnessed the power of fire? He could see no runes or way to conduct Pyromancy within it. Maybe if he activated his Pyromancy...

"Chuu~Chuu~" Louise looked down at her feet and found a small mouse nibbling her shoe: The Headmaster's Familiar. She knelt down and picked up the shivering mouse in her palm, "Chuu~Chuu~" It nibbled on her hand before pointing its whiskered nose at the tent door. It wanted her to go out. The headmaster was summoning her.

"Is something wrong, Louise?" Henrietta asked.

"Huh? Oh no, the Headmaster's Familiar's here," She cupped both palms over the white mouse and presented it to Henrietta, who giggled as the mouse squeaked at her, "The He-"

Louise was interrupted by the sound of a high pitched bang. Both nobles turned to the source of the noise and found Raziel kneeling on the floor, holding his right hand tightly in his left. They could see the remains of wood and the smell of gunpowder around him.

"Mmmph," Raziel scowled and tightened his grip on his right hand. The damn thing had exploded! He had activated his Pyromancy in order to try and activate the 'firepower' and the entire thing blew up in his hands like the 'Emit Force' miracle. What in the abyss kind of weapon blew up when in contact with Pyromancy? Damn thing was useless.

"Raziel!" Louise walked over to him quickly and took hold of his right hand, raising it up eye level. Raziel twitched at the contact, but didn't retract his hand, "What in the void were you doing!? You could've blown your hand off!"

It wasn't that bad. Raziel looked at his right hand - Parts of the bandage covering his palms had been burnt off by the blast, and he could feel some scratches from the wood, but overall it was nothing that couldn't be ignored. It was like being grazed by a Golem's fist, only hotter.

"Is he alright?" Raziel frowned slightly. He didn't need a future despot worrying about him, "It seems as if the gun jammed somehow and it exploded."

Actually, it was more likely he blew up the gun by cooking off the gunpowder, Louise thought to herself. She could see the burnt wood of the handle and how his hands ignited briefly when she touched it. This was the biggest reason she wasn't completely afraid of him: He acted like a complete moron a lot of the time.

"Damn it, The Headmaster just called us again. We don't have time for this!" Louise chewed on her lower lip in irritation. Could she just wrap it in bandages again? No, that would probably infect the wound since his skin was still burnt. Undead or not, his skin burnt just like any of them and she wasn't going to risk him being unable to use his sword arm. She needed an able protector for the trip to Albion.

"I am fine," Raziel wrenched his hand from her grasp and forced it to turn into a fist. Based on the fact that his hand was shaking rather heavily, it was most likely a bad idea.

"Louise, if I may suggest something?" Henrietta interjected, "Why not go to the Headmaster and see what he requires of you? I can use my water magic to...try and heal him," She coughed awkwardly. Louise had told her he was supposedly immune to magic, but it couldn't have hurt to try, "I'm sure Mr. Familiar knows the way to the office and can follow afterwards."

Louise looked between her friend and her Familiar slowly. Henrietta meant no ill-will, but Raziel made it clear he disliked her for a stupid reason, so she wasn't sure if leaving him here alone was such a good idea.

But what other choice did she have? Certainly she could have ignored the wound, but she didn't want to take any chances with it, reanimated corpse made of magic or not. She also couldn't see any tunics she could give him, and she really didn't want to bring him to the questioning again while he was shirtless.

"...Raziel, do you remember where you placed your armor?" Louise turned back to him and asked.

"Yes, I had left it with Derflinger in one of the central tents," Raziel replied stiffly.

"Then make sure to get both of them before meeting with me again," She frowned before kneeling next to him, "And don't you dare attack or insult the princess in any way, am I understood?" He looked away from her, "Raziel, she's trying to help you, and you're acting hostile for no reason whatsoever. Just make sure you aren't going to do anything. I have to see the Headmaster."

Raziel could barely give a nod before Louise walked out of the room. His master was insane; hostile for no reason whatsoever? Garbage. He was perfectly justified in keeping his distance. She'd already given his master a dangerous mission - he was paying some attention to their conversation - and that wasn't even mentioning the fact that she was a monarch. Power corrupted, regardless of how well-meaning someone was.

"Um, Mr. Familiar?" Henrietta called out somewhat hesitantly, "I need to see your hand before I can try and heal it."

Raziel looked down onto the ground before forcing himself to stand up. He needed to calm himself. There was no reason to lose his temper, not after he was still weak. This day had gone from bad to worse: He had gotten shot, smashed through a wall, burned, stabbed in the neck and then, as if fate was mocking him, one of the 'Flintlocks' had exploded in his hand.

Okay, that wasn't really much compared to getting skewered by a spear of lightning or being smashed against the wall by Manus, but it still hurt. The lack of Estus flasks and bonfires contributed to a lot of his pain. He had to rely on his natural hardiness and (weak) regeneration in order to see him through. Sighing, he sat down on one of the empty chairs across from her.

Tentatively, Henrietta reached out her hand and grasped his wrist gently. Raziel's fingers twitched, his entire arm shook. His arm felt cold, she noted absently, "I need to see if any shards of wood got into your palm. I can use water magic to pull them out, then we need to close the wounds and bandage your hand again," Oh great, more bandages, just what he wanted.

Raziel was quiet the entire time. Henrietta inspected his hand carefully, doing her best to try and avoid agitating the wound. It was intriguing. Despite the explosion, she couldn't see any traces of injury other than a few shallow cuts and scratches. She looked closer - No blood either, and it didn't look like a shard had dug in anywhere. In all honesty, it was almost impossible, but here it was in front of her. It was doubly impressive considering his hand still had numerous traces of reddened skin.

"Hmm, there doesn't appear to be any bleeding or serious damage," She pulled out her wand, "I shall try to heal the cuts and the burns if I can. At the very least I may be able to alleviate the pain."

Raziel nodded absently and tried to focus on other things. In the table in front of him, he could see the letter the two were focused on earlier. He looked back at the Princess quickly to make sure she wasn't paying attention before reaching his hand out to grab it. They had called it unreadable, but from what he could see, the letters on the paper looked familiar to him.

"This is..." Raziel blinked and stared at the missive. They had called it a cipher; unreadable without the code-sheet. But he could read them. He recognized the alphabet: It was the same as the books he had managed to pick up on his journey, "...His Eminence?"

Henrietta internally sighed. It was no use. No matter how many times she chanted or how hard she concentrated, she couldn't make even a single inch of difference. His skin remained raw red, the scratches and cuts refused to disappear. Louise was right, something was odd about him- Hold on, what was he doing with the letter?

"We have dropped the money you requested, along with the wind Mages sent to assist you in this endeavor," Raziel read aloud, "When the deed is done, you will be rewarded for your service handsomely by His Eminence. And should you perform the task well, we may have a place for you in our side. A new day is dawning in this wretched land, and..." He sighed. There was no point in reading this.

"Please continue," Henrietta urged. Damn it, he had almost forgotten she was there, "You can read the Cipher? Amazing."

"...Yes, these are letters I have seen before," He answered back vaguely. His master had told him to keep his background a secret, "Though it might be unintelligible to you, this...cipher is readable to me." To him it wasn't a cipher at all. It was their language that he couldn't read; so full of runes and odd shapes that he didn't understand at all. This was easy.

"Can you please read it then, Mr. Familiar?" Raziel backed away as Henrietta seemed to go closer, "Any words we can learn about the attack would be very helpful."

He wanted to say no, to tell her that he didn't take orders from her. But his masters words rang back in his head. Don't do anything hostile to her, she said. And refusing her orders would count as hostile. Sighing, he raised the letter up again before continuing.

"A new day is dawning in this wretched land, and soon we will reach the path our Founder Brimir intended for us. The Royal family of of Albion is weakening, and by this time next month, a new leader shall arise. His Eminence might have a place for you, so long as you prove yourself useful and efficient. The nobles of this land squander their gifts, blindly living their lives, unaware of that must be done. We must earn our place back into Brimir's graces, we must finish what he started..." Raziel stopped and sighed.

"What else?" Henrietta asked, a tinge of panic hitting her voice. The letter had talked about the death of the royal family. That would mean the death of the acting king and his successor, Prince Wales. Her heart ached. Wales was in danger, and she could do nothing but play the role of a puppet in the political machinations of the cardinals and other noble, along with sending her friend to a mission where she had a good likelihood of dying.

"There is nothing else," He threw the letter back onto the table, "There was a last note to burn the letter after reading it. It appears to be a letter of congratulations."

Henrietta said nothing, continuing to look at the letter as if staring at it long enough would change its contents. Raziel was half-tempted to tell her he was lying, if only in order to make her feel better. He didn't like her, but seeing someone so distraught and helpless because of him made him feel like a monster at times. But there was little to do for it now. She doubted he would even believe her if he said it was a lie.

He needed to see his master. Slowly he stood up, moving his fingers carefully. He could already feel his skin beginning to heal from the wounds inflicted on it previously.

"Mr. Familiar, please wait," She grabbed his left hand, "I have sent Louise on a dangerous task, and I'm sure not even Founder Brimir himself will forgive me. But please, protect her. She puts up a brave front, but I could see the fear in her when she accepted my request. Please protect her."

A look of surprise passed Raziel's face before quickly disappearing. He nodded, shaking his hand away from hers. Why was she being so selfless? It was as if power didn't matter to her. Didn't those with power view anyone else as a pawn? And yet she acted like she truly cared for his master, even when she wasn't around to hear of her words and actions.

Shaking his head, he tightened the cloak around his body before leaving the tent in a haste. He needed to stop thinking too hard about this. There were better things to occupy his mind than the actions of a princess.

* * *

Raziel stood awkwardly, his damaged armor already beginning to cause discomfort. To his left was his master, standing as stiff as a statue, and to his right the figures of Kirche, Tabitha, and Guiche stood in order. All around them he could see teachers, some angry, some panicking, and all of them appearing injured. If this was meant to be an interrogation, then it didn't seem to be off to a good start.

"This is your fault, Ms Chevreuse!" Professor Kaita accused, pointing at at the older woman. Unlike many of his peers, the young teacher didn't seem to be injured at all: He would later account it to the fact that he was of the wind element, an element he frequently proclaimed was the strongest, "You were the one assigned to guard the vault this day, were you not?"

"Well what was I supposed to do?" She replied angrily, "I heard explosions and screams from the courtyard and I ran there to try and help. In the first place, I was only supposed to patrol the hallways a few times before heading back."

"What you were expected to do is-"

"Okay, that's enough," Headmaster Osmond interrupted, raising both hands to try and placate the arguing teachers"Miss Chevreuse was doing her job; nothing more nothing less. In either case, Miss. Longueville here already saw what happened."

Miss Loungeville stepped forward, bowing respectfully at the surrounding teachers. Her eyes scanned the individuals around her before she flinched when her gaze landed on Raziel. He was still alive, she noted bitterly. Shame, she had hoped the surrounding bandits would kill him when she ran away. She wasn't a fan of taking life, but what she'd seen him do made her sincerely wish that he would just curl up and die somewhere.

"Ah, but before Miss. Longueville explains what she saw, we must thank our these four for their efforts," The Headmaster clapped his hands and pointed at the four students, "It was due to their efforts that the students and visitors were saved from the smoke. Ms. Valliere was also the one to push back the thief from the sacred vault."

Louise stood in an awkward silence. She didn't do anything, but she couldn't say that out loud right now. All she did was faint and then get captured. Raziel said nothing, not even caring that he wasn't counted as one of the group. The Familiar's actions are attributed to the master, as he would find out later. All he cared about was whether he could go back outside and and get some sleep. He would deal with the headaches in place of this.

"Ms. Kirche, Ms. Tabitha, Mr. Gramont, on behalf of the school, I would like to sincerely thank you for your efforts in keeping everyone safe," The headmaster stood up and bowed respectfully, "And Ms. Valliere, because of you and your Familiar, the thief and his Golem were driven away quickly before much of the treasury's contents had been looted."

The reactions of the three were...mixed. Guiche was the most vocal, laughing haughtily and bowing like he had been presented a medal. Although Raziel could see that his actions were at least partially forced. Kirche was smiling and bowed respectfully, though he didn't miss the force in her smile. She wasn't that happy given everything that had happened. Tabitha was the most reticent, making do with nodding politely. She was still tired, if the slight lean she had on her catalyst was any indication.

"Now, Ms. Longueville, would you tell us exactly what you saw?" Osmond gestured to the green haired teacher. Raziel looked at her warily. She was there? He couldn't recall her presence. Still, it was highly likely that he just missed her. He wasn't exactly focusing on his surroundings and the dust from the stone and Golem made it hard to see around him. She probably saw through the smoke.

"Yes," She bowed and rubbed her bandaged forehead wearily, "The smoke and dust in the area made it hard to see, but I'll do my best to give an accurate view on what I saw."

She told them about everything. How she was coming down from the tower after sending a message, how she could hear screams from the main entrance, and how the earth shook when she tried to make her way there. She told them of the Golem and the thief controlling it, how it broke into the vault, and how it suddenly melted and the thief was forced to flee.

"And what exactly were you doing there in the first place?" Professor Kaita was the first to speak, "Its odd that you chose the Familiar festival as the time to send a letter to anyone."

"Oh, leave her alone!" Ms Chevreuse defended angrily, "We won't get anywhere if you start accusing everyone of being the thief. And if she was the thief, why would she come back to the school? It would make no sense." That wasn't even mentioning the fact that the thief was most likely a male. Professor Kaita's rampant accusations and sour demeanor made him unlikeable to many of them.

None of them had seen the thief's face. Raziel thought it sounded female, but after Gwyndolin he wasn't going to judge gender based on voice and appearance alone. For all he knew they had some kind of magic spell to change genders in this land. It honestly wouldn't surprise him given everything they were capable of doing. Guiche looked like he'd been halfway done with the spell. At the back of his mind, he wondered briefly why they didn't ask him or his master what they had seen before disregarding it. They had their reasons, he was sure.

"Yes, well, that's all I saw," Ms. Longueville bowed apologetically, "But I do have some good news: I managed to follow the thief to the forest and figure out the path he was talking," She sighed, "I got injured in the forest and lost sight of him, but I believe I've found where he made camp; a small abandoned shack in the center of the forest."

_'Huh?' _Raziel gave her a sideways glance. Something was odd. She wasn't lying, at least not completely - She did indeed know where the thief was. But at parts of her explanation she showed signs of lying; fingers twitching and words shaking. Some things didn't add up either - No dirt on her uniform or her shoes. So how did she go through the forest?

...

He shook his head. He was getting paranoid. He needed to be careful about his paranoia now that he was here. Death was treated heavily here and was, according to the Headmaster, permanent. So he couldn't kill her, at least not until he was sure.

"You need to be careful, Ms. Longueville," Colbert interjected worriedly, "It would have been better if you went back and asked for help. You could have gotten killed if he was aiming to kill you."

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Colbert, but I am fine," She smiled at the balding professor, "That is actually why I came back. The thief spared me because he was in a hurry, but I don't want to see what will happen if I try again."

"Ah, so you know where this elusive thief is?" Osmond asked. At her nod, a smile broke out on his face, "Well then, that makes things simple: Miss. Longueville can lead us to his location. Now then, are there any volunteers? I'm sure many of you are eager to serve the school by taking down this thief and reclaiming what he had stolen."

The reactions of the teachers were...less than enthusiastic. At the Headmaster's announcement, many of them made excuses to leave the room while others stood awkwardly in place. Osmond's eyes widened comically as he saw over half the teachers leave the room in a haste, some not even bothering to give an excuse before rushing out with their tails between their legs.

"Eh? No one wants to catch him?" He lamented loudly, "What about you, Professor Kaita? Weren't you eager to stop the thief earlier? Or you, Ms. Chevreuse don't you want to capture this thief?"

"Un...Unfortunately, I used all my willpower to make an air bubble around us, so I'm afraid I would be a simple liability," He backpedaled hastily. It was a lie. In truth, he still had about half his willpower left. But he certainly wasn't a fan of going into a thief's lair.

"I have lost my willpower as well, unfortunately," Ms. Chevreuse explained sadly. Unlike Professor Kaita, she was mostly speaking the truth: She barely had any castings left in her. And, she suspected, this was most likely the reason the other teachers left hastily as well. It was not too long ago the attack had ended and many of them had used their spells without getting a chance to rest. She doubted they would be able to fight a thief even if they all went.

Osmond sighed. Of course none of the teachers would volunteer to go after the thief. Many of them came from nobility and had no prior experience in combat. Colbert would probably volunteer to go, but he was more exhausted than all of them since he had gone out without the air bubble in order to move faster. And he himself was already slowed down by age.

"Why not go to the Imperial Court?" Colbert suggested, "They could send soldiers to help us reclaim what has been stolen."

"It would be too late," Osmond answered gravely, "Unless we chase after him now, he will get away and whatever he has stolen will be lost to us. No, as the residents of this Academy, it is our duty to reclaim that which has been stolen from us. We cannot call ourselves nobles otherwise," Ms. Longueville seemed to smile at his answer.

He looked to the teachers again. No one raised their hand, either too exhausted or too afraid to try and go after the thief. Just as the aging headmaster was about to give up, he saw a wand reluctantly go up in the air. He smiled. Of course, there were still nobles around here with a sense of duty. Internally sighing in relief, he turned his gaze to the teacher who so bravely volunteered to- Hey, that wasn't a teacher!

"Hey, wait, Valliere!" Kirche started, pointing at Louise's raised hand, "Are you going to try and capture a thief in the forest by yourself? Do you even know what kind of magic he used?"

"Does it matter?" Louise bit back, "No one else is willing to volunteer and he'll get away if we don't do anything. You can stay here if you want, I'm not going to abandon my duty as a noble and let this thief embarrass our school. I'm not a coward."

Kirche scowled. Insulting family was below the belt, "Then I'm coming too," She cut Louise off before she was going to complain, "I'm not doing this for you, Valliere. Like you said, it would be cowardly to do nothing. Besides," She smiled wryly, "Sending the Zero is like sending no one at all. What would you do if you were there on your own? Use no magic and hide behind your Familiar, most likely."

Tabitha stared at the arguing rivals briefly before raising her own staff quietly. Kirche stopped her arguments and turned back to her friend, "Wait, Tabitha, you need to rest! You were holding up that air bubble close to an hour earlier and you barely got any sleep." Kirche didn't miss Tabitha's slight difficulty of breath. She was still tired, no doubt about it.

"Already rested," She replied taciturnly, "Can't sleep. Would be worried," She clarified. Kirche's face softened into a smile and she rolled her eyes. It would be just like Tabitha to say things like that. She ruffled the smaller girls hair affectionately.

The three students gazes turned to Guiche, "What? Are we all expected to volunteer now?" He asked somewhat nervously, "I can't join you, I have...other duties to attend to. One of the knights that was killed was an old servant of the House of Gramont till recently. He has no family left, so unless I vouch for him he's going to be buried in a lonely ditch somewhere. I'd like to have him be buried near my fathers land. "

He wasn't lying, Raziel noted. His three peers - they weren't exactly friends with one another - decided to leave him alone. He wasn't likely to be lying. Guiche may have been a womanizer and a coward, but even he wouldn't use the death of someone as an excuse. The look on his face made it clear that he was being honest about this.

Despite the odd volunteers, the Headmaster smiled and forced himself to laugh, "Haha, so it seems we have our volunteers," He looked at them one by one, "I must say, it prides me as the headmaster of this school that we have such brave students with a strong sense of duty."

"Headmaster, you cannot possibly allow this!" Colbert interjected, "They're students! Furthermore, they are still exhausted after everything that happened just now. Sending them out now would be too dangerous!"

"I trust in the students of this Academy, Professor Colbert, and you should as well," He replied calmly, "Its not as if we're sending someone who's inexperienced. Miss. Tabitha's already a Chevalier despite her young age."

Everyone - with the exception of Kirche (who already knew) and Raziel (who didn't understand why that was so important) - let out voices of surprise. While the title of 'Chevalier' was the lowest in the imperial hierarchy, it was still a title that was granted to those who had done great services for their country. While titles like 'Baron' or 'Marquis' could be earned at a young age, it usually amounted to simply owning land rather than anything else. The title of 'Chevalier' demanded respect.

Osmond turned to Kirche next, "And Miss Zerbst comes from the distinguished Zerbst family of Germania, a family well-known for its line of heroes. She also showed herself to be adept in fire magic and brave of heart when she helped rescue students during the crisis earlier. I feel we can trust her to do her best in this current endeavor."

Kirche smiled and flipped her hair haughtily, throwing a smirk Louise's way. The pinkette gave her a scowl in response.

He finally turned to Louise, "And how could we forget Ms Valliere? She's..." Osmond paused. What was she good at? Excellent pedigree, and... "Well, she's the third daughter of the Valliere family...and she has a bright future ahead of her," He coughed awkwardly, "And she's at the top of her various theory and literature classes. I'm sure she'll be fine."

Louise didn't miss the fact that none of that had anything to do with her magical power. She tightened her grip on her wand - After today, she would prove herself and no one would dare call her Zero again.

Osmond's head drifted to Raziel ever so briefly before he turned back to Ms. Longueville, "Ms. Longueville, could you please prepare a carriage? The students must be tired, so they need all the rest they can get."

At his secretary's nod, Osmond finally allowed himself a sigh of relief. His gaze filtered to Raziel again. He was tempted to call out to him and mention him along with the other students, but he resisted the urge to do so. The man who had saved him years ago claimed that he came from a land of Undead, and that they were persecuted from where he came from. Calling out to him might have led to disaster.

He just hoped nothing bad would happen.

* * *

The trip to the center of the forest was uneventful. His master, Kirche, and Tabitha changed clothes and had a quick meal before they were all shuffled to the carriage. The carriage was quiet, Miss. Longueville and Tabitha not saying a word. At a closer glance, Raziel saw the small blunette napping in her seat. She must have been trying to conserve her energy.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his master and her rival. Kirche tried to ask Ms. Longueville questions about her past and his master rebuked her for being nosy. From there the arguments escalated to petty insults, jibes at family honor, his master's magic capabilities, and whether large breasts were worthwhile additions to the female body or simple lumps of fat.

Raziel looked around warily. Kirche had told him that Flame had to stay back in the academy due to being too big for the cart, but Tabitha assured them that Sylphid was following them from high above. 'Just in case', she had told them.

This continued for a while until the darkness of the forest seemed to thicken. They were getting closer, most likely.

"We're here," Ms. Longueville turned back to them and gestured to a small clearing through the trees, "I remember the house being through there. The thief is either there or around this area, so we should split up."

"Is separating the wisest course of action right now?" Raziel intoned, stepping down from the carriage with the rest of the makeshift group, "Perhaps it would be better if we stay together? The thief is capable of summoning constructs to do his bidding."

"Darling's right," Darling? What in the abyss did Kirche call him? "A thief brutal enough to use bandits as a distraction sounds too dangerous for us to separate."

"Don't worry about me," She replied, "I can take care of myself, and going all together will just make us a bigger target," She pointed to the surrounding trees, "I'll look around the area. We don't even know if the thief's still here, so I'll see if I can track him using my earth magic. You three check the house while I do this. Either way, he won't get away from us."

With that last word, the three students (and one Familiar) made their way to the abandoned clearing. Kirche held onto his arm and stayed close to him, ostensibly for 'protection'. Louise was tempted to complain before thinking better of it. If she wanted to seduce a corpse, that was fine with her. All those Germanians were savages anyway. Probably made love to their corpses on holidays.

The four of them stalked forward to the abandoned looking house, making sure to keep their heads low in the process. Raziel twisted his left arm and grimaced. His whole body hurt, a dull ache spreading to every inch of his limbs. He had no doubt that, should he have been a normal human, he would've collapsed from the strain of the injuries he had received earlier. Whatever foul magic was keeping him animated must have been trying hard to keep him 'alive'.

"There it is," Kirche pointed her free hand at the house in the middle of the clearing, "Doesn't seem like the place a thief would stay in, especially one that uses magic," She sighed, "So what's the plan? We can either charge in and try to rush him or sneak up and try to catch him off guard."

"Sneaking sounds good," Louise answered, "We're all still tired from what happened last time, so a head on attack isn't the best idea," She suddenly scowled, "But what do we do if he catches the person trying to sneak up on him? He must be a triangle or square Mage if he was able to break into the vault. It might not be safe for whoever goes in there."

"How about as bait, then?" Kirche asked, "We can send someone in there to lure him out while the rest of us set a trap. He won't see it coming and we'll be able to catch him no problem. The only problem now is which of us is going to be the bait."

"Best reflexes," Tabitha intoned.

Raziel didn't even wait for his master's order before he began to sneak over to the decrepit building, unsheathing the serrated dagger from his side in the process. It made the most sense, after all: The others were capable of doing their magic and he was the only one here - apart from that girl Tabitha - who had experience with things like this. He idly noticed that one of the runes on his left hand had started to glow already. He still had no idea how important this was supposed to be.

Also, he doubted whether any of them could take a life so easily.

He peeked into the window and was met with the inky blackness of the interior. Sighing, he looked up at the sky. Through the thick trees, he could see the sky darkening and the sun's light fading. It was almost evening now, meaning they had to do this fast unless they wanted to fight in the darkness. None of them could exactly see in the dark.

He took one last glance at the window before making his way to the door. Ever so slowly he opened it, checking the sides carefully to ensure there were no Golem's waiting to ambush him. Seeing none, he opened the door even more and charged inside quickly.

Nothing. He looked around the area suspiciously: The entire area was barren, devoid of anything except a single table and a chair next to it standing in the middle of the house. He went back outside cautiously and waved to the group. They got the message - 'No one was here.'

Tabitha was the first to speak, "No traps," She waved her wand and pointed it at the house, "Thief?"

"Not here," Raziel gestured to the house and sighed, "There are things inside."

All of them went back into the house. Just as Raziel had said, the entire place looked abandoned, save for the table and its contents. Louise stepped forward slowly to the center. There was a wooden case there; not ornate, majestic, or even spectacular - Just an average wooden case.

"Is that what was stolen?" Kirche asked, "I remember seeing that case before when we were given a tour of the vault. Something about it being a powerful staff that's been in the school for generations?"

Raziel ignored their conversation and took the item on the other side of the table: A mask, white in color and bearing the mark of a simple frown. None of the others saw it or cared enough for it. He picked it up and observed it slowly. The mask was of a familiar texture, and the sad grin on its porcelain face made him think oddly of an acquaintance in the past...

Visibly trembling in anxiety, Louise gripped the sides of the case and raised it up slowly. The three Mages looked down at the staff and were...underwhelmed, to say the least. They had expected a magical stave worthy of the Pope, with elegant and graceful designs. The staff looked like the bastard son of an axe and a stave. It looked more like something a Demon would use.

"We should get out of here," Kirche suggested. The other two nodded and made their way out of the house, leaving Raziel inside by himself.

He continued to observe the mask. He couldn't ever recall the thief wearing a mask of any kind; all he could recall was a thick cloak that obscured their features, gender, and appearance. Did that mean somebody else was here with them? He sighed. Maybe they just picked it up when trying to escape into the forest.

A loud boom resounded outside the house. Raziel once again found himself tumbling onto the floor, the mask cracking as it impacted with the ground. Trying to gain his bearings, he unsheathed Derflinger from his hilt and ran outside.

He froze up. A Golem, just like the one in the school. But this one was different: It was hunched over, its two arms being used to support itself upright. The that made up its body was smoother than the previous one, and its face was like that of a demons - He could see its wide mouth open, rows of stony teeth that could crush a human being in its bite. Its eyes, if it could even be called that, glinted an abnormal color and he could have sworn the thing smiled when it saw him.

"Raziel, get out of there!" Raziel barely had time to move forward before the Golem's fist smashed into the house, sending the wooden structure down in a large heap. Scowling, he stood up slowly, holding Derflinger in his left hand as he forced himself to stay balanced. His head was ringing, his vision swam as another fist smashed something close to him again.

"Move!" His master grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him forward, using her free hand to try and cast a spell on the Golem. Raziel watched as a chunk of the Golem exploded outward, as if it was hit by a black firebomb. It was useless, however, as the stone structure took little time to regenerate and replace its lost 'skin'.

The Golem raised its fist to try and smash them again. Tabitha chanted quickly, summoning a tornado underneath it to try and distract it. Following up, Kirche chanted and summoned a spell of fire. The tornado smashed against the construct with enough force to topple even the strongest knight...and it still wasn't enough. They watched with baited breath as the wounds on its monstrous body healed almost in an instant.

The golem ignored their spell, throwing an agitated growl before raising both hands to try and smash them all at one. Raziel grabbed Louise by the shoulders and pushed her away quickly. Its fist smashed into the ground quickly, colliding at where the two of them were just standing.

"Raziel!" Louise tried to chant another spell before she was swept away carelessly by the Golem's left hand. She crashed into the ground painfully, her chest aching at where the Golem had pushed her. She could barely move, the only sounds she heard the ones of her own heartbeat. This thing was too strong.

"We have to go!" She heard Kirche's panicked voice, followed by the feeling of her arm being slung around someone's shoulder, "Tabitha, get Sylphid to land! We need to get out of here now!"

Tabitha complied, chanting a wind spell to direct her Familiar on where to land. Not long after that, the blue dragon landed on a barren plot of the land, making panicked noises when it saw the Golem continuing to try and smash them into paste.

"Lets go!" Kirche ran, dragging along the nearly unconscious Louise as the Golem continued to pounding her Familiar, "Raziel, get out of there now! We can't kill that thing!"

Raziel rolled to the side, slashing at the Golem's fist as it tried to kill him. Something wasn't right: This thing was aiming for him, and ignoring the rest of them. "Turn away, I will keep it distracted," He parried a strike and turned back quickly to them, urging them to run, "It is trying to kill me, not you. Run." He dodged backwards quickly as its hand descended once again.

Kirche didn't have time to argue before Tabitha pulled her along. He was right: The Construct was perfectly fine with ignoring them and trying to smash him into little chunky bits. They couldn't even help anymore - Their willpower was too low and their strongest spell was almost entirely ineffective. Whoever was using that Golem was incredibly adept at magic.

As soon as they reached Sylphid, the dragon gave a panicked roar and took to the air as fast as its wings could take it. Kirche sighed in relief, glad to be away from the danger. But it wasn't over yet. Raziel was still down there, and she didn't know how long he could last without any help.

Raziel wasn't doing well. His Flame was too weak to fight and every strike with Derflinger was either parried effortlessly or too shallow to actually hurt the creature, "Hey, partner," Derf called out, "I know you wanted to play hero and all, but this things even stronger than the last thing we fought against. There's some kind of magic I've never seen before on it."

"What do you mean?" Raziel placed Derflinger back on his sheath and did his best to put as much distance between him and the Golem as possible. Pyromancy was out; he wouldn't be able to even dent the thing now that he had lost his chaos Flame. And attacking it head on with a sword might as well have been as effective as chucking Prism stones at it.

"I can't explain it: Its like a magic no one else uses, you get me?" Raziel nearly fell as the Golem tried to grab him, "Its kind of like something that's more than those 4 elements everyone uses. Hey, are you even listening to me?"

"Not really," The Golem seemed to tire of using its hands and made do with trying to chomp his body in half. Raziel grabbed both of its jaws mid-bite and tried to push its mouth apart. If that thing clamped down, it might have taken his arm off, and that would have been disastrous. He still hadn't mastered using Pyromancy with both hands and he needed all the practice he could get.

"Hey, I'm trying to help you here, partner," Derf complained, completely ignoring Raziel's attempts to keep his body in one piece, "Anyway, this thing probably can't be hurt by anything we throw at it, so the best thing to do right now is to either run away or try and summon that red flame you had earlier. You can do that, right?"

"It is not something that can be summoned so easily," The Undead kicked the monster in the jaw before slashing Derflinger across its 'eyes'. The beast roared, as if it actually felt the impact of the blade. If he could summon the chaos flames, would he have not done it by now? "Blood and Damnation," He cursed as the beast grabbed him in its stony grasp.

He barely suppressed a yell as it threw him through the air, his body smashing painfully against a sturdy oak tree. This thing was too strong to fight in his current state. He needed to try and find a vulnerable point. Forcing himself to stand up again, he gripped Derflinger with both hands and ran forward. He couldn't afford to run.

From the shadows of the trees, Fouquet watched the one-sided fight carefully. It had taken nearly all of her remaining willpower to summon that last Golem, and she could already tell something was off. The way it looked, the way it acted, it wasn't something that she could create. It was stronger than all the other creations she had made in the past.

_'The staff...' _She thought, looking down at her wand. Somehow touching it had altered her magic, at least temporarily. When she made that Golem, all that popped into her mind was the shape of a demonic ape, its ferocity unmatched by anything else. This Golem wasn't under her control, at least not completely. It was the only explanation why it chose to go after that damned Familiar over everyone else.

Oh well, at least she could get rid of one threat.

* * *

"We need to get down there!" Louise insisted, looking down and flinching as her Familiar smashed against the tree with a dull thud. Her head hurt, and everything was swimming, but she was still alive. She couldn't abandon her Familiar, regardless of how much of a monster he may have been or he claimed to be. Her pride as a Mage wouldn't allow it.

"Don't you think we already tried?" Kirche rebuked, irritated, "That things fine with ignoring us, but the minute Sylphid gets near it, it tries to grab us. We're not going to be able to land."

Louise looked around them frantically. There had to be something she could do! There was nothing here except the staff- That's it! "Tabitha, cast levitation on me!" Without even waiting for the dragon rider's answer, Louise grabbed the container holding the staff and jumped off the wind dragon's back.

She fell, at a speed that would have killed her or broken both of her legs on impact with the ground. But just as she was about to hit the ground, she felt the calming wind of the levitation spell slow down her descent and she landed calmly on the ground.

She needed to hurry. Swallowing her nervousness, she opened the container quickly and grabbed the staff with both hands.

But what she received wasn't power. Her skin felt a chill, as if she had been doused in an icy wind. She could hear screams, unintelligible voices yelling a thousand different things at once to her. She could feel something crawling inside her, just wanting to get out and be free. She fell to her knees, unable to focus. She couldn't even hear the Golem's attacks anymore.

She was so tempted to sleep, to just lie down and forget about all her problems. She could feel energy leaving her body, only to be replaced by the feeling of exhaustion. She wanted to forget everything and let herself be lulled to sleep by the voices.

"...ter..."

It was a shame she couldn't say goodbye to her family. But they would understand one day. The voices were calling to her, telling her to sleep and forget about everything. Her eyes began to droop down and she felt her head hit the ground softly. She could feel hands, thousands of them at once, grabbing her arms, her shoulders, her legs. They wanted her to join them.

"Mast..."

But her Familiar and everyone else was counting on her, a voice at the back of her head said. That's right, Raziel needed her help, and it would've only been proper since he saved her earlier. But then why should she have cared? It was expected for a Familiar to fight and defend their master, so the Mage shouldn't need to feel a debt of gratitude.

"Master!"

Another pair of hands, different from the rest, took hold of her shoulders and pulled her away from them. She could hear the voices gasp in unison, some growling that their prey had been taken from them. Blinking her eyes slowly, she saw the face of her Familiar, eyes narrowed in concentration and determination permeating his face. His grip on her tightened and she felt the hands release her.

"Let...go..." Raziel wrenched the staff from her grasp and held it away from her. His master's convulsing stopped immediately, only to be replaced by the sounds of frantic coughing. He breathed a sigh of relief and tightened his grip on the staff. What in the abyss was this thing doing here? He could feel the corruption present in the staff trying to overtake him already.

The Golem stopped, backing away slowly. Raziel smiled wryly - Event the stone construct was capable of fear for something like this. He laid his master gently down onto the ground before raising the staff up. This thing granted power to anyone it ever came across, but it always had a price. For humans it took their life, and if a person was frail enough it could do without even granting it power in return.

Raziel cast the spell, words that he didn't understand filtering through his mouth. As he finished chanting, a ball of dark flame was released from the staff and collided with the Golem's arm. The reaction was instant: The stony limb exploded, its head and chest beginning to corrode from the abyss magic eating away at it. He cast another spell, this time a row of dark beads smashed against its other hands, reducing it to rubble.

The Golem growled as it tried in vain to heal itself again. Raziel could see the stone turning black and rotting away. It was being consumed. Realizing that its 'life' was coming to an end, it raised up its head and tried to bite down on the two of them.

It didn't even get close. Raziel raised the staff a last time and chanted another spell. Multiple figures, vaguely humanoid in shape, surrounded the Golem and consumed it before it could react. Pursuers, Raziel noted tiredly. Capable of killing anything and nearly impossible to kill or fight back against. The denizens of the abyss were strong enough to kill anything with but a simple touch.

Raziel hurriedly let go of the staff and and collapsed onto the ground, barely able to hold himself up using both hands. He felt dizzy, the urge to vomit steadily increasing with every second that passed. Undead could handle the strain of the staff better, but they were still capable of being taken in by its lull. He vomited onto the ground, a dull gray liquid dribbling down his mouth and into the dirt. The Estus drink, the only thing they actually 'ate' in their eternal unlike. To them it was the equivalent of blood.

And he was vomiting it all to the ground.

Through blurry eyes he could see the blue dragon landing, Tabitha and Kirche moving to aid them. He could barely stand, he needed focus. He couldn't afford to drop dead here.

**"What cursed form is this? This pitiful state must surely be madness consuming me. Death would be a release from this torment!"**

**"I know you, better even than you know yourself. Do you even remember your name? Beyond the cursed form you take?"**

**"Who is there?"**

**"Why are you so quick to assume that you had survived? Does your appearance give the image of life?"**

**"Cease your riddles and tell me who you are!"**

Hey, Valliere, are you all right?" Kirche knelt down and shook her rival's shoulder, "Hey, wake up already!" She raised her hand and slapped the smaller girls cheek

Louise awoke with a startled gasp, her left cheek stinging for some reason. What had happened? All she remembered were voices and hands lulling her to sleep, and then...nothing. Shaking her head, she stood up and examined her surroundings. The Golem was gone, and her Familiar was fine; albeit vomiting heavily. What happened? Did Kirche and Tabitha save them?

"Hey, did he just use magic?" Kirche asked incredulously to Louise, who ignored her, "He used the staff to destroy that Golem! What in the void's going on, Valliere!?"

She needed to sit down. Sighing, the pinkette walked a small distance away from Kirche and plopped down on the ground. They were safe now, that was all that mattered. She'd think about that staff later.

Raziel could see images, memories he never recalled before. He growled, drawing ragged breaths through his lungs. Yes, to a human, the price of using the staff was their life. But to an Undead, what they lost was their Humanity: The thing that kept them going and stopped them from Hollowing. He tried to form words, but all that came out were the growls of a mad animal. He was finding it hard to move.

He stood up weakly, Tabitha offering him a hand up which he ignored. He was beginning to lose rationality. Where was the staff? That thing needed to be destroyed. Unconsciously, his left hand tightened and a the skin darkened. A piece of the corruption branded into him, no doubt. But it wasn't too much: He could control it, and it was exactly what he needed to destroy that staff.

They heard footsteps coming from the forest. Miss. Longueville walked towards them slowly, wrapping a thick glove on her right hand. Louise and Kirche breathed a sigh of relief at her presence. The secretary knelt down and scooped up the staff slowly, putting it back into its container with a small shiver.

"My, my, what happened here?" She asked, not even bothering to hide how nonchalant she was feeling. Tabitha visibly stiffened, her hands tightening her grip on her staff, "It seems like you four had a lot of trouble."

"Where in the void were you!?" Kirche started angrily, "We nearly got ourselves killed trying to kill that Golem and the thief isn't even here. Did you at least find out where he's-"

Kirche's tirade was interrupted by Tabitha sending a gust of wind at Ms. Longueville. She smirked, throwing up a crude stone barrier to block the wind from reaching her. The girls willpower was so weak that even a crude barrier was enough to stop it.

"Hey- Tabitha, what are you doing!?" Kirche turned to her friend.

"Thief," She pointed at the woman across them, "Saw her. Standing near Golem." She chanted another gust of wind, this time even weaker than the last. She gave a miniscule frown. She'd expended too much willpower without resting, and calling Sylphid to attack would be too dangerous. She didn't know how much willpower the thief had left, but it was obviously enough to summon a Golem that was strong enough to beat them back.

"How observant of you," She clapped sarcastically, "Yes, I summoned that Golem, and I'm the thief that stole from your school," She gave a melodramatic sigh, "You know, I was going to let you four go now that I know how the staff works, but you've left me no choice now. If you want to blame someone, blame your friend there," She pointed at Tabitha.

Actually, that was a lie: She would've had to kill them in order to avoid witnesses. But at least then she could've done it quickly and cleanly.

Kneeling down, she removed the staff from its case and, ignoring the chills and voices that entered her at its touch, she began to chant. She'd heard of the words Raziel chanted, and even if she didn't know what they meant, she couldn't deny the power they were capable of summoning. She repeated the first spell she'd heard him utter.

"Get down!" Kirche yelled.

Sylphid moved to block Tabitha, Kirche and Raziel shielding them from the blast. Raziel looked around frantically for his master before he saw her: She wasn't near them, but rather a fair distance away on the edge of the clearing. The thief seemed to notice this too and changed targets, pointing to the lone girl. She was trapped. She was going to get killed.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Raziel ran from the dragon's shadow to his master. Fouquet finished chanting, unleashing a a dark orb of fire that would have killed her. There wasn't enough time to push her out of the way. He looked down at his left hand, the corrupted skin beginning to pulsate. He recognized this feeling. And it might just be what saved them.

Making his choice, Raziel stood in front of his master and raised both hands to shield the both of them.

Fouquet sighed under her hood. The explosion had hit, and no doubt that meant that those two were dead now. Already feeling herself weakening, she started to cast her second and final spell. This would be the last time she used this-

Her casting was interrupted by a punch connecting to her cheek. Shaking her head quickly, she tried to focus before another punch sent her to the ground. Blinking in disbelief, she found Valliere's Familiar standing above her. She didn't have a chance to yell before he had picked her up by the neck and threw her into one of the trees.

She smashed into the wooden base painfully, her grip on the staff loosening. Through blurry eyes she saw him, walking towards her like an animal stalking its prey. How did he survive?

He looked down at his left hand again. The Dark Hand, a 'gift' from Kaathe to all his Darkstalkers. When he had lost faith and began to believe Kaathe's lies, he willingly allowed himself to become a Darkwraith. This was one of their rewards: Capable of taking humanity from others, or defending against the magic of the abyss. This thing was like a parasite: It hungered for humanity.

He had thought his time in the Kiln would have destroyed it, but that was a foolish notion. Using that staff had imprinted the magic of the abyss on him, and it took only a little bit of the darkness to re-awaken the hunger. Like all Undead, he needed humanity to keep himself alive, although he liked to think he had greater control of his urges than most.

Fouquet finished chanting the spell, sending beads of dark magic at him. He raised up his left hand. A translucent shield had appeared in front of him, blocking the attack from hurting him.

Raziel grabbed the staff from her hands and threw it away casually. He was going to kill her, but for now he need to satisfy his hunger. Instinct had taken over, and all that concerned him now was feeding himself. He needed it if he didn't want to go Hollow.

He clenched his left hand into a fist before stabbing it to her chest. She nearly screamed; it wasn't painful, not in the way she was used. But she felt violated, like her very being was being ripped apart and something precious was being taken from her. His head lowered nearer to her and she felt herself weakening. Raziel smiled, feeling the Humanity leave her body and enter his. He didn't take it all; that would have just turned her into an Undead. But he made sure to do it as painfully as possible. This wasn't even a fraction of what she had put him through today.

She collapsed onto the dirt, drifting in and out of consciousness. He shivered; his hunger was sated for now, and it would be for quite a while, but he hated himself at the moment, indulging in the Humanity like a starving beast. He felt the familiar euphoria of Humanity coursing through him. He could feel his wounds lessen in severity, though they were still there. Humanity was truly the greatest pleasure for an Undead.

"Raziel?" He heard his master cough, "What happened?"

He turned back and saw his master walking shakily towards them. She had no idea what had just happened. He turned to Tabitha and Kirche, and still found the dragon shielding them. They had no idea either. He sighed; at least he wouldn't have to explain what he just did.

"You did it," Louise motioned to the thief's unconscious body, "I don't know how, but you did it."

"It is not yet finished," He grabbed the dagger from his side and stood up, "We must kill her."

"What? No!" Louise grabbed his hand and pulled him back, "We were sent here to capture her, not kill her! We need to report this to Headmaster Osmond! He'll decide what to do with her. She needs to pay for her crimes, but not like this!"

"Why complicate things?" He asked back, "If we kill her here now then we save ourselves the trouble. Take her back alive and she could escape."

"That's not our place to decide!" She insisted, "We're Aristocrats, and you're an Aristocrat's Familiar. We're not murderers."

Not murderers? He had killed before, he had killed again to save her, so why did she insist that he not kill again? He had killed those bandits, and she was the reason they had attacked, so why then would he spare her? It made no sense at all. Spearing a life in order to appear better than someone was foolish. They called it 'Mercy', but sparing a threat was the act of a fool.

"...You are not a murder...," He shook her off and picked up the fallen thief, holding her against the tree, "But I am..." He pulled his hand back and turned the knife's edge to her neck. One strike and she would be dead, hopefully for good. Scowling slightly, he pushed the knife against her neck.

"Raziel! I _**order** _you to stop!"

His hand stopped, the blade just an inch away from her neck. He tried to push forward again, but his hand refused to budge from its precarious position. His left hand shook, its grip on her neck loosening. He could feel a hot pain spreading across the hand: The second rune was lighting up, and more images began to filter into his head like a flood.

"Drop her! Now!"

His hand removed itself from her neck, despite his intentions. His right hand dropped the dagger with a dull thud and he found himself backing away.

"We are NOT murderer's," Louise took the dagger and threw it away from them, "She'll be judged by the courts of Tristain, and if she's found to be deserving of death then she will be tried and executed. We're not going to kill her here like she's a wild animal. We're better than that."

Raziel ignored her, too busy trying to stop the flood of unknown memories. Whatever his master had done, it had activated one of the runes binding him to her, and undid another one of the 'seals' keeping his memory in check. Looking down at the thief one last time, he clenched his fist and began a forced walk back to the carriage. If it was his master's will that she be spared, then so be it. He would not hold himself accountable for anything that happened as a result.

He only managed a few more steps before he collapsed.

* * *

**Alright, another question: In the original LN, Louise and Derflinger frequently say "What the hell". So does this mean they have a concept of Heaven and Hell? The Brimiric religion is remarkably similar to Catholicism and Christianity. So is this a concept of afterlife or just a translation thing? Because right now I'm using 'void' and 'abyss' as euphemisms for hell. The only one who said 'hell' in a curse so far is Derflinger.  
**

**Bakapervert - Their reaction to his bombshell essentially boiled down to "That's interesting...now tell me more about that magic you used earlier". From his point of view, they disregarded his status as an Undead and focused on Pyromancy. He pretty much gave up on explaining because he thought they wouldn't care. He's wrong, but he's not omniscient anyway.  
**

**Demons Anarchy - ...Where did you get the idea that Henrietta was the pairing? The last time I talked about romance for this fic was...three months ago? Meanwhile, Raziel acts HOSTILE to Henrietta every time they interact, and the only reason they're not fighting is because Henrietta's not a person to pick fights. Besides, last I checked, Kirche and Tiffania were also talked about a lot. As I said before, I wanted to focus more on plot and relationship building over romance right now. Hence why most of his talking chapters are with Louise and Derflinger, who are strictly platonic. Any ship tease moment is meant to look awkward or stiff because of the dynamic between his view of love and their view of love.  
**

**Necrofantasia - Yes, he'll use them. Also, Raziel being alien isn't solely due to his magic, but also his entire being. He doesn't sweat, doesn't need to breath, has no emotion in his syntax etc etc. He's robotic, which people find odd. The white hair also clashes with his young appearance, showing that he's supposed to be both old and young. **

**Kraut - Theatre masks aren't analogous to asshole aristocrats, you know :) Also, I already watched all of Vaati's and ENB's vids. I like to keep in the up and up ;) Although mugging a peasant for a scythe would be OOC given his general passive nature. More likely he'll just keep pestering Louise to buy it for him. And that's assuming the scythe is good, since a crappy weapon is a crappy weapon no matter how it looks. **

**Naraku9108 - That's fine :) I'm actually taking it as a compliment: The fact that you disagree with me, but are willing to read the story anyway because of how I write it, reflects good on me as a writer since I can keep people reading due to my writing skills. And the fact that you don't whine about it is a plus :D**


	14. The Wraith

**Well, this will be a new one :) This chapter is a full flashback chapter, so it will most likely be shorter than the ones that came before it. Then again, since the past few chapters were about 12-15k on average, I guess shorter chapters like this are fine once in a while. After this we move on to the Mott arc anyway, which turns darker all-around. Hate to say it, but I'm gonna have to bump this story to M once I reach the Mott arc: There's going to be some pretty risque stuff there and I don't want to test my luck and get my fic purged. So to anyone reading this, please turn your setting to include all ratings by the next two chapters or so.**

**And looking at my fic plans, I fall under "The Stations of the Canon": Basically, I keep canon events intact and only change how they go. If I want to really make my story unique, I'm gonna have to find a way to make change and add events :/ Guess this fic's gonna fall under mediocrity since its mostly copy-paste from the novel and canon events. Hopefully I can change that later.  
**

**I'll probably change the title, and maybe the summary too. "Dark of Zero" is catchy, but its also nonsensical. I'll decide what to do with it in the next few days if possible. **

**Anyway, without further ado, I present to you the first flashback chapter: The Wraith.**

* * *

It was dark. That was the first thing he noticed. The area around him, the ground he stepped on, everything was completely pitch black. Even the air he breathed seemed heavier, as if tainted by a poisonous existence. Not that he needed to breath. He supposed his lack of a jaw meant that he was far from needing a full physical body in order to function, let alone air.

He looked down at his hands with rising trepidation. It was one of the first signs of the horror inflicted on his body - His ten fingers were bony, wrapped with a mix of decayed blue flesh and remnants of metal; gauntlets most likely. He moved them slowly, marveling at how the thin digits could still move despite their high state of decay. It was like a miracle.

His stomach had receded, covered in the same bluish skin that wrapped around his entire body. Thankfully it wasn't completely lost, so he still had some width to him, but he could see the outlines of bones at his sides. Whatever he had left in him, it wasn't much to last. Past the stomach he could make out dangling bits of skin starting from his shoulders and ending at the ground behind him. Wings? No, they were too thin and there were parts of it that looked discolored. It didn't take long to figure out what it was - Skin that had been torn off his back, mixed with was either blood or remnants of a cape, based on the reddish brown streaks. Wings would be too graceful for the likes of him.

He looked down at his decayed form again, a mixture of curiosity and morbid realization coursing through him. He was alive, but he had changed. Though whether one could call him alive was debatable. By all accounts, he had turned into a nightmarish monster straight out of a nightmare. He breathed, finding the action unnecessary as he felt the air pass through his decayed lungs with nary a feeling or relief or irritation. He didn't need air anymore.

And of course, how could he forget his mouth? He grasped at the brown scarf and pulled at it again, only to give up quickly when he realized it wasn't coming off. Somehow it had bonded itself to his body - or more specifically his missing jaw. He tried to open his mouth before his eyes furrowed in disquiet. He didn't have a jaw anymore, that was certain. He could still feel his upper mouth and teeth, however.

"Newly Arisen, you are worthy."

He turned around quickly, trying to discern where the voice had come from. The deep baritone was unrecognizable to him. The voice seemed to speak from everywhere at once, the sounds snaking their way towards his decayed ears. His eyes darted around the inky blackness quickly, trying to find any physical form he could direct his attention to. But there was no one there, no one he could see anyway. All around him there was nothing but darkness.

"Ah, why so quiet? Do you think your new form is incapable of speech? You are wrong. Try it, marvel at how your form adapts to the changes."

"A..." He spoke out the word slowly, as if afraid that speaking would somehow cause his crumbling form to collapse then and there, "A...Alive..." His voice came out smoother than he thought, almost as if his body hadn't decayed past use. He grabbed for his jaw again. It wasn't a hallucination; he had spoken without the physical capability of doing so. Where did his voice come from if not his lips?

"Do you plan to stay forever?" The voice called out again, "Or will you push forward? The choice is yours."

Taking a step forward slowly, he was amazed at how there was ground left to meet his strides. Looking down at his feet, he idly noted that the only thing covering his lower body were rotten pieces of cloth and the remains of metal boots for his feet. The metal covered limb made a small clicking sound, like it was actually hitting stony ground rather than floating air and darkness.

"What cursed form is this? This pitiful state must surely be madness consuming me. Death would be a release from this torment!" He yelled out suddenly, earning a chuckle from the disembodied voice. It was toying with him, playing at him like he was a puppet on strings. It found this amusing, a sentiment that he did not share. He needed to find out what happened.

"I know you, better even than you know yourself. Do you even remember your name? Beyond the cursed form you take?" It taunted, the voice changing from a deep baritone to a light jest. He scowled, trying in vain to once again determine where the voice was coming from. The voice seemed to enter and leave his head so quickly that he couldn't determine where it had come from. It was like it had spoken directly into his head.

"Who is there?" He finally demanded. That voice had ordered him around already and he still had no idea what was going on. He needed answers.

"Why are you so quick to assume that you had survived? Does your appearance give the image of life?" It taunted again, its voice changing to an almost feminine tone. He felt a shiver as his body seemed to decay at his words. No, that was just his imagination. It knew what had happened to him, that much was obvious. But the changing voices meant that he was either dealing with an entity that could change its sound...or he was dealing with multiple at once.

"Cease your riddles and tell me who you are!" He resisted the urge to yell out when the voice laughed again, this time reverting back to the baritone it had used earlier.

"You ask me?" It had turned cheerfully high this time, "Do you not remember anything? How you had come to be in this place which serves for punishment against traitors? Your survival is most surprising, given this place's purpose. You are the first survivor to come from this place."

Blessed? He didn't really feel as if fate was favoring him right now. He didn't even remember anything: His name, his position, who he was, everything was erased by the years of torment he had endured. All he remembered was the one who had thrown him in, the man in the regal armor and his silver knights. He had no name nor an identity for him, but he would know him when he saw him. He would tear the flesh from his bones.

"Ah, just as expected," It remarked lightly, "You are not aware of who you once were, who you still are. Such is the price for your resurrection and blessing. We all must pay a price, even one such as yourself."

"You are aware of who I am?" It didn't reply, "Tell me who I am, who I once was. I know nothing but this decayed form." He called out, all but begging for the disembodied entity in the darkness to help him.

"That is something you will have to find out for yourself," It answered dismissively, "I am not here to answer your questions nor am I here to be your guide. The way out lies ahead, but you will reach it only if you wish to do so. I cannot and will not save you from your fate."

"I...cannot go without assistance," He called out hesitantly, "I do not know this place, neither do I know what has happened to me. Any assistance you could offer would be most helpful," He hated playing nice with something that was obviously enjoying his suffering, but he wasn't so proud that he would not ask for help when he needed it. He needed to find a way out of this dark void.

"Fascinating," It drawled, "Your actions do not match who you once were. Perhaps I will help you, newly arisen. Your situation...intrigues me." It chuckled, sending spasms of anger down at him. This thing was having too much enjoyment out of his torment.

"Then answer my question: Who am I? What am I doing here? What have I become?" He called out quickly.

"The first two you will have to find the answers for yourself," It called irritatingly, "But the last one I can answer: You are an Undead, one of the first but certainly not the last. You have been blessed with life beyond death; immortality and the chance to move beyond your demise."

"Blessed? This form is...tainted, decayed beyond use. I see no blessing in this situation, only fate mocking me for my inability to die," He clenched his hands roughly, the decayed skin on his fingers stretching to compensate for his movement. If he could have, he would have grabbed the entity by its neck and slowly strangle it, if only to relieve some frustration from his situation.

"Do not let your new form's appearance color your judgement completely," It scolded, its voice changing again to a high pitched female. He began to get tired of the constant changes, "You are alive now, are you not? You can walk on your own two feet, see with your eyes. Would you prefer it if you were blind and crippled?"

"I would prefer it if I were dead," He mumbled to himself, shaking his head in irritation, "Regardless, I wish to leave this place. Staying here serves no purpose for neither you nor I."

"An interesting choice," It commented, "Tell me: What do you expect to find in the world outside? Time has passed while you lay in this place. Do you expect things to remain as they were, to wait for you while you recovered? Time has changed many things, not just you."

"I do not know anything," He called out irritatedly, "My memory of who I once was is missing, as is any knowledge I might have of the world beyond this desolate darkness. I wish to find out for myself what exactly transpired in my absence." That and he doubted whether he would care at all at the state he found the world in. Anything would be better than this place right now. He couldn't even see anything.

No, wait, upon closer inspection he could see more details in the darkness. He could see the curves of rocks, the edges of stone that led even further down into bottomless pits. The ground in front of him bent with every step, the darkness bending at the unnatural contact it made with his body. Something told him that whatever this dark abyss was, it wasn't used to the idea of anyone walking inside it. Either he was hallucinating the absolute darkness from earlier or he was getting used to being in this twisted place. Neither of the two truly appealed to him.

"Then I will assist you in this endeavor," The voice called out, amused, "Move forward. Cling to life."

Seeing no other choice, he began his slow crawl forward, fascinated at the lightness at which his body moved. Despite all appearances, his arms moved swiftly and without complaint. His legs as well, despite the melted metal and thinness from decay, moved smoothly and he felt no exhaustion from the wide strides he took. Perhaps there was some truth to his enigmatic benefactor's words.

He continued to walk forward before he came upon a corpse. Unlike him, the corpse was decayed beyond physical movement, its skin clinging completely to its bones. One touch and he had little doubt that it would crumple into dust and spread across this abyss. He felt a tinge of pity for the poor man. No doubt if fate didn't have such a perverse sense of humor, then he would have been the same.

His musing were interrupted by a sudden feeling of weakness. His legs crumpled from beneath him, and he felt a sudden bout of dizziness. No, more than that, he felt **_hunger_**. He wanted to eat something, to satisfy the base craving he felt. He crawled forward on his bony hands. He suddenly felt drawn to the corpse sprawled out in front of him. It had something he needed, he was sure

"Your new form needs sustenance, something no food or drink can satisfy. You need Humanity, the substance which gives you form. Surely you did not think your blessing would come without a price? Everything comes at a cost."

"Humanity?" He didn't have to wait long before he understood the meaning. From the corpse he could see a warm substance, darker than even the abyss around him. The sight made his body ache. He needed it, he hungered for it. The craving was overtaking all rationality. That substance - Humanity - it would make him better again, it would make him stronger. He could get up if he had just one taste of it.

He reached a hand out before recoiling at the thought. Was he truly about to desecrate a corpse to satisfy his hunger? Did he not wish to die just now? He could've just lied here and let himself rot away. At least he would die without knowing he succumbed to hunger like a beast. Something growled inside him, angry at his decision to let himself starve. He felt air being absorbed from where his jaw previously was. He needed to feed.

"Feeling hesitation now?" The voice taunted, "I suppose you wish to believe that you would die here as a free man. Regardless, the choice is yours."

He blinked, trying not to let the taunts get to him. If he died here, whoever sentenced him to those years of torment would avoid the punishment they so rightly deserved. Until they paid for their actions against him, he couldn't afford to die here. Even if it meant sacrificing whatever morals he thought he had, he needed to get out of here or they would have succeeded in killing him.

Closing his eyes and mentally praying for salvation, he muttered an apology before forcing the cloth covering his mouth away from his face. A stream of air shot out, absorbing the dark substance from the corpse and into the open space between the cloth. As soon as the substance entered him, he quickly let go of the cloth and once again let it cling to his face. So, he noted wryly, that was why it refused to leave his body. It was the only thing stopping him from breathing in a gust of air with every second he spent 'alive'. And here he thought it was because of some dark prophecy.

"Satisfying, is it not?" It called down to him, "Humanity is what allows you and all others like you to survive. But do not be foolish; Humanity will not always be waiting for you. You will have to kill for it, take it from others or from those that you fight. You must be willing to fight to survive now. Your motives must transcend all notions of good and evil."

"I thought you would not guide me?" He called out sarcastically, "Did you have a change of heart?" Or a change of whatever it had in place of a heart.

"I am giving advice, nothing more nothing less," It replied lightly, "What you do with your new life is up to you. I am interested to see what comes of your choices." It paused before continuing, "I will give you one last form of help: A path out of this blessed oblivion. Take it if you wish to escape this place. But if you desire to stay here, then only turn around."

A few feet in front of him, he saw a hole about 10 feet wide open like a tear in a fabric. He looked at the darkness surrounding him before his gaze turned back to the tear. This was the way out? How generous of it to help him. He assumed he would be alone on this mad quest. Although he doubted that it did it out of a sense of generosity or kindness. It had admitted to helping him out of amusement more than anything.

Quietly thinking of choking whatever the thing talking to him was, he pushed himself up and forced himself to push forward. Already he could see the abyss around him lighten and the darkness recede. He was close to the hole now. He looked down and saw books and other scholarly memorabilia. Was this some kind of portal? Knowing everything that happened, it honestly wouldn't surprise him if it was some kind of trap.

But he had no other choice here. Grimacing at what might have lay ahead, he spread his arms and jumped into the opening.

* * *

He landed with a dull thud, though the impact was lessened by his lower body weight. He observed the area around him warily: Books, tables, lamps, everything one would need to study in peace. By all accounts it looked like an average study...save for the fact that everything looked a few sizes too big. He made his way to the bookcase and observed the books. The book took both his hands to life, though it was lighter than its appearance indicated. He traced a claw-like finger along the books bindings and his eyes narrowed. Leather, and not that old either. Whoever used these books were here recently.

Of to the side, he made out a mirror and walked towards it. He grimaced at his reflection. Despite the view he had seen of his body earlier, he had foolishly hoped that things weren't as bad as they seemed. But looking at his reflection now: Veiny blue skin, a tattered brown shoulder cape that wrapped around his lower mouth, and even flaps of bloody skin torn from his back lapping around at behind him like destroyed wings. He looked at his eyes: No pupils, just an empty blank space with a whitish-blue glow. The fact that he still had hair, rotted as it may have been, was a small miracle in and of itself.

He should have been more shocked, he guessed. But there was no shock to be felt, only disappointment and anger. He had no idea what he looked like before, so there was no longing to go back or hate for his new appearance. Maybe, a small part of him said, he was even more decayed before he had been thrown into that abyss. He shook his head and laughed bitterly. That would have been a miracle.

A slow clanging of footsteps jolted him out of his reverie. The door across the mirror opened. A knight, easily taller than him by a few feet and clad in , stepped into the room and stopped when it saw him. He understood the shock. How else would one react when seeing a monster in a room. He turned around quickly and waited to see the knight's reaction. Would it try to help him or assume he was a monster.

The sound of a sword being unsheathed and a shield being drawn was his answer. The knight immediately rushed forward, smashing the sword at where he had stood. Eyes widening at the sudden attack, he jumped to the side quickly as the metal clashed against the mirror he was just in front of. Typical knights, always quick to assume by appearances.

It picked up the sword from the shards of glass and tried to strike at him again. He didn't give it a chance to. Pushing forward, he grabbed the knight by the throat and pushed it against the wall easily. It struggled in his grasp, wordlessly flailing its sword haphazardly in a vain attempt to try and strike its smaller for. He tightened his grip on its neck and he heard the sounds of gurgling chokes.

His eyes widened at how easy it was to physically overpower the towering figure. He tightened his grip on the knight's neck again and heard the unmistakable sound of a snapping bone. It ceased its struggles, hanging limply in his hands. He had snapped its neck. As if on instinct, he used his free hand and pulled open his new 'mouth'. The knight's body was covered in a bright white light before quickly.

As he looked down at his now empty hands, he realized what he had just done. He had killed someone and taken their power for his own. Not even a body left behind for their comrades to mourn. But what shocked him most was how easy it was. The knight was easily heads and shoulders taller than him, but he had snapped its neck so easily without straining himself. Was this twisted form truly a blessing, like his benefactor had said? Or was the cost too high to pay for it.

Another knight smashed through the door, no doubt hearing the commotion from their fight. He didn't even let it get a strike in before he took the spear from its armored hands and impaled it through its head. Same as before, he opened his new 'mouth' and absorbed the opponent's essence. Its body disappeared, leaving behind only the spear he had stolen from its hands.

"That was simple," He commented blankly, staring down at the spear in his hands. It was much too large for him to use in proper combat, though his newfound strength allowed him to wield it with ease. He placed it against the lamplight and observed the make: Silver, but dented with multiple nicks and dents. Whoever he had just killed, it was a veteran of many fights if the spear's condition was any indication.

He needed to get out of here. Relegating the spear to one hand, he walked out of the room and was met with the sight of a wide open hall. The place looked large, too large for even the knightly figures. He looked to the right and stared up stoically at the large statue. It was of a woman, holding a baby in her hand with a sword in its infantile hands. There were other statues around her: Knights, assassins, sons and daughters. He cared little enough about them to care for their minute details.

To his left he could see a wide doorway leading to an open walkway. On the other side of it he could see another building, "The archives," He mumbled, not realizing what he had said. Wait, how did he know that? There was no sign pointing to its name, so there was no possible way for him to know that at a glance. Only someone who had been here before and recognized the architecture would know that.

His eyes widened at the implications. He had been here before. That was the only way to explain how he was aware of the building names. So why had that building stirred memories when no others did? He sighed, though his lack of a jaw made it sound empty. He didn't know what to think, but he had obviously recognized the building. Perhaps it held answers.

The walk to the archives was barren. He didn't know what to expect: Maybe a group of knights or even a giant stone Golem? But no, there was no one to bother him. It was as if the entire place was abandoned. But what could that mean? A place as large as this would no doubt be populated by all sorts of different individuals. But the emptiness would seem to indicate otherwise.

The area around him was bright, contrasting greatly with the abyss he had spent time in earlier. The sunlight shone off the glass windows and murals that he passed while rich stone and brick encased all the buildings around him. Whoever lived in this palace was well-off, especially given the quality of the knights guarding it. He had no doubt that an average person would have been torn limb from limb.

He entered the large doorway to the archives and immediately felt a chill course through him. There was something wrong about this place, something he couldn't explain. He traced his hand against the wall and grimaced; the dust had gathered up and, though it was hard to see, insects had started trying to nest all-around. This place had either been abandoned, lost its use, or no one cared to maintain it.

The end of the long hallway made way to a library. He crouched near the edge of the wall and peeked inside. There were people there, although calling them human would have been a stretch. They were large, easily as tall as the knight's he had killed. Their clothes were dark blue and laced with traced of gold embroidery all around them. In their hands they held staves, though the three pronged end made them seem more like a demon's trident. He couldn't see their faces, however, as they were looking away from him.

It was safe enough to assume that they were hostile. At their feet he could make out the forms of captive men and women, although what interested him more was that they were the same general size as he was. So the trident wielders were not the same as he and their captives? Crouching down, he raised the spear to throw it at his target. There were four of them in there, and it was enough to take out at least one.

The robed figure raised its head at the sound of footsteps before a burst of pain suddenly forced it down into the ground. The spear had impaled him in the chest and killed it instantly. The figure next to it attempted to chant a spell before he was also forced to the ground. He had used his hands to snap its neck.

The last two didn't even get a chance to try and attack before he killed them as well. The first one had its six eyes mercilessly gouged out by his fingers while the last one was just in the beginning of its dancing chant before he used its deceased friends trident to impale it to the ground. It struggled briefly and tried to pull out the offending weapon before his body collapsed completely.

He looked down at the four dead bodies. He had fought like an adept fighter, although he had no idea how. He opened his 'mouth' and once again absorbed their strength, leaving nothing behind. He remembered what they were now: Channelers, creatures that served this place's master. Whoever he once was, he was aware of these creature's existence. But now he was a Wraith, a Revenant, a creature that killed and became stronger form it. He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. Power was at least something he had.

He knelt down the unconscious captives and untied their ropes clumsily. He had no time to escort them out of here, but he could at least make sure to give them a chance to get out of here. One of the captives began to awaken at the commotion and he quickly retreated deeper into the archives. Given his appearance, he didn't think they would find him to be a welcome sight.

The rest of the way into the archives was more populated. Channeler's stood in his way, but more often than not they were by themselves, so ending their lives were easier than before. Soon he found himself in a spiral staircase leading to the end of the archives. A sense of dread began to fill him the higher up the staircase he went. Despite his strength, he had a feeling that whatever lied at the end would prove dangerous even for him.

When he opened the door at the end of the stairway, he was amazed at what he had seen. Bookcases, larger than some even some buildings, filled with books so thick it would have taken weeks to try and read even halfway through it. But what impressed him most were the crystals, shining beautifully in multiple parts of the room. There weren't too many of them - He guessed they were probably enough to fill a couple of desks - but their radiant glow made them all the more noticeable. The rooms design and lavishness meant that this was reserved for someone of great importance.

"Who...enters...my domain..."

He turned around gasped in pain as a large hand grabbed him roughly and lifted him up. The Wraith looked in horror at what had grabbed him. It was a dragon, completely white in color with the exception of its wings, which had traces of red and blue. Instead of legs, it had what could be described as a three sided tail, covered in multiple jutting crystals that protruded from inside its body.

He grabbed the fingers grabbing onto his body and tried to push them away from him, but the creature's grip on him didn't budge. He felt a pop of rising pressure as the dragon raised him up and positioned him in front of its elongated face. Eyes, though they were hard to see due to their crystalline color, opened slowly and regarded him with curiosity and rage.

He knew this creature. Seath the Scaleless, pariah of dragonkind and betrayer during the war. Again the reason he knew that eluded him.

He grimaced as its grip tightened and it growled loudly, the crystals around the room reverberating at the loud sound. It was angry, that much was evident, but what intrigued him most was that it did that after it had seen him with its own eyes. That thing was aware of what he was, who he was. Slowly, Seath's jagged jaws opened and it breathed out a single word with its monstrous voice.

"Man...us..."

* * *

Raziel woke with barely a sound. Blinking the weariness from his eyes, he looked around him quickly. They were still in the cart, and he could see the horse making its way forward. The academy was in sight, looming ever closer with every step the horse took forward. Tabitha was at the front of the carriage, either not noticing or caring that he he woken up.

He looked around him slowly. Kirche and his master were sleeping, lying against the cart in curled positions. Fouquet was at the floor in front of them, her hands and legs tied with binds of rope and her mouth was gagged with with a large piece of cloth. She was still unconscious. He could see Derf sitting next to him, the sword not saying a word of greeting either. All of them were too tired.

Raziel looked up at the sky. Nothing but darkness and the twin moons greeted him. It was nighttime now, meaning he had been unconscious for at least an hour. They were on their way to the academy now.

He looked upwards again, losing himself in the red and blue moons. These memories made no sense to him, least of all the ones his runes suppressed. Was that memory even his? He doubted it. Perhaps it was from a previous wielder? He stared down at the runes. Three of them now glowed, meaning there were four runes left and whatever memories he had stored in them were close to halfway finishing.

He supposed he should have been more worried, or maybe even relieved. The memories he received were different from his experiences in Lordran, which possibly meant that it was his memory from before the Asylum. But again, he couldn't discount that the memories weren't his. It certainly didn't feel like they belonged to him, not even in the least.

The form he took in his memory also bothered him. Even as a Hollow he never looked quite as bad. But in his dreams he was a genuine monster, rotted beyond all pretense of life. And yet, with the decay came strength, more than he ever had or remembered. He - or whoever that person was - was able to kill the Channelers and those knights with his bare hands, something that he couldn't even dream of doing without it being a form of suicide.

And that wasn't even getting into Seath's appearance. Was it before he had made his way to the archives? Granted his memory of that event was hazy for one reason or another, but he was pretty sure that he wasn't a decayed pseudo-winged humanoid when he fought the insane dragon. In fact, he couldn't ever recall having that appearance at all. Even when he was in the asylum the worst he looked as that of a highly emaciated corpse, not some kind of monster.

But what did Seath call him? Manus, right? He sighed. Another layer of confusion to his current enigma. Manus wasn't a name so much as a moniker. It was similar to Raziel: While his name meant 'Risen Soul', Manus translated roughly to 'Man from the Abyss'. It wasn't the name of an individual, but rather anyone that it could apply to. The implications of being called that were...unpleasant.

Flames, he might have just been imagining the whole thing. Gods damn it all, things became so complicated after he had bonded with his master. Raziel kicked the unconscious Fouquet angrily, earning a pained grunt from the earth Mage thief. He would be lying to himself if he said that things were better than when he was on the Kiln or in Lordran before that, but at least things were simple: Be Kaathe's pawn or Frampt's pawn. Here he was getting memories that might or might not have even been his.

He supposed that there was no need to tell his master about his memory. After their disagreement, he doubted that they would be able to talk amicably unless she was giving orders to him. Well, that was fine with him. He would serve her out of gratitude, but he didn't have to like her. Her views on life and mercy were naive, and it would get her killed one of these days. He wasn't a fool; those runes stopped him at her command. But since he had disobeyed her before, their hold on him wasn't complete. If need be, he would disregard their connection. Having an Undead away from her probably would be a relief for the noble student anyway.

Raziel sighed. Things were much simpler when he was being killed all the time. At least then it was consistent.

* * *

**Now I know this chapter wasn't very large, but most flashback chapters rarely** **are. I'll try to make the other flashbacks larger, but I really wouldn't hold my breath. They're meant to be segments of the larger present day (at least for Halkeginia) story, and they cut in and out at different points, so its more like jumping to different points of an ongoing story rather than a full story itself. Though since the next arc will be the Mott arc followed by the Albion arc, I doubt that it will be lacking in words again. Maybe I'll limit myself to 8-10k words per chapter or something. Don't want to strain too much since school's started :p  
**

**Oh, and I might make a drabble fanfic of a younger Karin and Marianne (Louise and Henrietta's mothers respectively). I just read the summaries for the Karin side-stories and the Tabitha side-stories, and I have to admit I find them more engaging than the actual novels. Though I still don't understand how Karin fooled people into thinking she was male given those short-shorts/hot pants of hers. Anyway, Marianne is utterly convinced Karin is male and has a blatant crush on her, complete with trying to make out with the poor girl despite her insistence that its improper for people of their position (Not to mention gender). Since the fanfic will be on these two, their will be pseudo-yuri vibes, though there probably isn't going to be much actual romance beyond Marianne's crush. Just a lighthearted fanfic. And my first conscious attempt at an actual pseudo-yuri, so it should prove interesting  
**

**Anyway, answer time:**

**Necrofantasia - He was able to disobey her before, so its not a complete Geass. And its still more acceptable than burning for eternity, so its not like he's going to be vocal about it. He still has free reign for the most part, after all.  
**

**Writinginreverse - Nope, he just took humanity, which anyone can do :) I dunno where the Soul Vampire things coming from. I mean, the name shouldn't be too indicative of anything, right? Its not like he looks...like one...nevermind.**

**Demons Anarchy - Question answered :) And its less not being a dick and more on not being vocal of his dislike. **

**Kraut - I love long winded reviews, so its fine :D I'm more surprised you can review so fast since you aren't using an account. I dunno how you know when it updates.**

**Manus - Dear Manus,**

**Request denied.  
**

**With friendly regards,  
Headmaster of Tristain Academy of Magic,Headmaster Osmond  
**

**Primal Chaos - He doesn't know how. And making a bonfire hasn't been done yet, so the process is naturally unknown to him. That and a firekeeper soul may or may not be needed. He'll find a bonfire soon, I promise.**

**Asa - You don't actually kiss them. It may look like it, but you do draw blood when you punch them and your head stops at chest level, not mouth. **

**Diamondace - Finally someone comments on his stupidity :) He's being stupid, I never tried to hide that. Louise does call him out on it because he's being unfair. **


	15. Through the eyes of a Risen Soul

**Another chapter. Nothing much to say, though I did find something interesting: Apparently, the Brimiric religion has Angels and Demons. While I thought 'Demon' was general enough that it could be from any religion, the LN states that "Brimir came down, accompanied by smiling Angels". So I guess the Brimiric faith is equivalent to our worlds Christianity. Makes things easier. **

**Although their afterlife is kinda odd. A side-story mentions "Valhalla", so their version of heaven is apparently a warriors paradise :/ So Christianity mixed with viking fantasy, I guess.**

* * *

"So Miss. Longueville was our culprit?" Osmond asked sadly, to which the three students nodded mutely. All of them were too exhausted to provide much more than that, "I see..." He sighed sadly, "Well, I suppose I should have expected this. She'd been acting passive the past few days and she even mentioned that she may be leaving soon. But I would never have imagined she would be capable of what happened today."

Beside him, Colbert nodded solemnly at his words. Like the headmaster, he had considered the snappy secretary a friend despite her crass behavior and blunt dislike of the students around the school. Even still, she had tried to kill his students, there was no getting around that. He had to accept that maybe she was lying about her true personality.

"Um, headmaster?" Louise was the first to speak, "What will happen to Miss Longueville now?"

"As much as it pains me to say, she'll probably be either hanged or exiled," He sighed, "But the chance for exile right now is really low. If she's really 'Fouquet of the Crumbling dirt', then many of the nobility have a particular grudge against her and want to see her killed. I'll see if I can't change their minds about this, but as of now the only way I can see this end is with the noose."

So she was dying anyway? Raziel rolled his eyes discreetly at the announcement. So instead of granting her a quick death they would give her the pretense of a chance at survival. It was all pointless. He didn't understand why his master would stop him from killing her then. At least then it would be quick and honest; none of this nobility nonsense.

"But..." Louise opened her mouth before shutting it again slowly. It wasn't her place to judge how the older nobility would condemn a criminal. She disliked death, and was silently hoping that the secretary-turned-thief would be either exiled or - in rare cases - jailed indefinitely. After all, wouldn't it be more merciful that way? Clemency was supposedly something practiced by many of the nobility against thieves and other criminals. She thought it would be the case here as well.

"Ah, but things like this shouldn't worry you so much," The headmaster cut in, waving his staff lightly in an attempt to lighten the mood, "You three are heroes now: Captured the great thief when none of the teachers could. I suspect you'll be greatly rewarded."

"Rewarded?" Kirche asked. She didn't actually expect a reward. Back in Germania, being awarded titles or other things for deeds were rare. When it came down to it, money was the greatest thing that mattered. No one act could propel you to any title of worth. There were cases of people being knighted posthumously, but those cases tended to be rare as well.

"Of course," Osmond nodded, "I suspect you'll all be given Chevalier titles once I give a letter of today's events to her majesty. I don't know how things work back in Germania, Miss Zerbst, but your actions here mean that you'll be considered to have done a great service for the country of Tristain," He turned to Tabitha, "And for miss Tabitha, since she already has a Chevalier title, we'll give a sum of money. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if we have anything else to give considering your circumstances."

Kirche shrugged nonchalantly. More than likely the title would be invalid considering her Germanian ancestry. Either that or her parents would take that as another strike against her - Gaining the favor of a rival country. Heh, her parents would either commend her for gaining an olive branch or scold her for bringing even more shame to their family because of it.

Similarly, Tabitha nodded, but showed no other reaction to the news. Money was something she had little use of, save for buying the occasional book that stroked her fancy. Maybe she could go to the new bookstore in town after this was over. She was quickly running out of reading material and she suspected it would be a while before she was forced into another assignment. She needed something to keep her focus intact.

Louise was the only one to react with any sort of happiness, "Th-This is a great honor, Headmaster!" She bowed respectfully, "I am greatly honored to receive such a title," She couldn't keep the smile off her face. Her mother would be proud of her. Louise, the youngest daughter who showed no traces of magic, was able to receive the title of a chevalier. Yes, it was a low title, but it was a title nonetheless.

Raziel resisted the urge to yawn as the questioning continued on. The rest of the trip to the academy was uneventful, save for the fact that Fouquet now had a few broken ribs. It wasn't like he meant to injure her. He just kicked her a few...dozen times...and didn't stop when he heard her ribs- Okay, maybe he did attack her when she was unconscious, but he was frustrated and she was an easy target. At least he didn't kill her.

Even after she attacked him with a golem, smashed him through a wall, attacked him with a golem again, forced him to use the corrupted catalyst, and tried to kill all of them with said catalyst.

Gods, he really wanted to kill her.

"You are very welcome, Miss Valliere," The old man smiled, though Raziel could see that he was forcing it. His secretary's betrayal must have hit something deep, "Unfortunately we don't have the time or resources to do a proper ceremony now given everything that's happened. Perhaps we can postpone it for another time?" All three of them nodded, "Well if there's nothing else-"

"Ah, wait moment please," Louise spoke up, "You gave us all rewards, but what about my Fami- Raziel?" She corrected quickly. As happy as she was to gain the title of Chevalier, it felt kind of hollow since she didn't do much during that fight. Thinking back on it, Raziel was the one who had destroyed that Golem, not her. All she really did was hand him the staff.

"Hmm, unfortunately not," He frowned apologetically, "Regardless of anything he may or may not have done, he's a Familiar and not a noble. To give him a reward would be considered improper conduct."

Louise didn't protest on it more. He was right anyway: Familiars were an extension of their master. If Raziel was rewarded, then Flame and Syplhid being ignored would be a bad sign.

"Very well then. If that's all there is to it then you're all free to go back to your rooms," Osmond clapped his hands, "Once again, I would like to thank you for your efforts in catching today's culprit. And I apologize for being unable to give the proper ceremony today. I'm assuming that you all want to rest, given today's events. We'll contact you again when we have more news."

Kirche and Tabitha were the first to go. Louise slapped Raziel's shoulder to wake him up from his blank staring and turned to leave as well.

"Ah, Miss Valliere, can I ask something of your Familiar before he leaves?" Colbert suddenly asked, "Rather, this is something of a continuation of our discussion before. You can stay, if you wish."

Louise shook her head and moved to leave the room. Most likely they were going to talk again about how her Familiar was some kind of corpse risen off the ground. While she had no problem accepting him as her Familiar, she didn't exactly want to have long discussions on why exactly he called himself an Undead when he looked nothing like a risen corpse, save for that one incident during the summoning ritual. Well, so long as he wasn't an Elf or a Vampire, she could deal with it. Undead people had to have been human at one point, right? At least the magic he used was fire and not the scary magic of the firstborns.

Raziel watched his master close the door before turning back to the two school staff members, "What is it you wish to ask of me?" He didn't bother taking a seat. Given everything that had happened today, he wouldn't have been surprised if either the teacher or the headmaster turned out to be master assassins or dangerous mercenaries. He wanted to be prepared to fight if anything happened.

"Please don't act so suspicious," Colbert raised his hands up in light surrender, "The headmaster simply has a few words to say to you."

"It is so," The headmaster coughed before continuing, "I'll be frank with you: Your claim of being an Undead? It is simply too hard to believe at the moment," He pointedly ignored the slight scowl that Raziel sported at the words, "I'm a well traveled man. I've seen many things: Vampires, Bird People, Dragons, Minotaurs and even the rare Elven mercenaries. But Undead are something that have been spoken of only in legends or in horror books."

"I am not lying."

"Now I know what Mister Colbert told me about what happened during the summoning ritual," The old man continued, "But in all honesty, its easy to come up with other explanations - Perhaps you wore a costume, maybe you asked a fire mage to douse you in fire," He chuckled, "Or at least, that's probably what the students who saw it are claiming. I know that a costume that good isn't possible and that being doused in fire is near impossible to survive, and you don't seem to be lacking in sanity enough to douse yourself in oil and fire."

Humans would do anything to try and justify the impossible, regardless of the logical fallacies of the explanation. Raziel understood that well enough: He did it extensively when he refused to believe that Frampt was lying to him.

"No, the reason I don't completely believe you is because I have heard that claim before," The headmaster chuckled at Raziel's blank acceptance. Anybody else would have called him a liar, "It happened many years ago, you see. I was off on one of my explorations when I was ambushed by a Fire Dragon mother. Without meaning to, I had stumbled into her brood and she considered me a threat," Off to the side, Colbert shook his head at the thought of it, "My wand was knocked away from me and I thought for sure that it would be the end of me."

"Given your presence here now, you must have survived...or you are an Undead like me," Raziel commented.

"Haha, I cannot imagine myself rising from the grave," He smiled at the comment, "No, there was someone who saved me. He used a magic that was unknown to me and killed the fire dragon easily. I wondered who he was: He had the bearing and appearance of an aristocrat, but carried himself with the confidence of a warrior. He confessed to being confused at his location and saved me only because he needed someone to ask where he had been transported to."

"That person sounds familiar..." Raziel commented neutrally, trying to ignore the rising dread he felt.

Osmond grabbed the wooden case holding the 'staff of destruction' and placed it on the table, "This was the staff he used to conduct his magic. He called himself an Undead, and claimed that it was the reason he was so adept at using this weapon despite its corrupting abilities. I didn't believe him at first, but one touch of the staff proved all that his claims were true. Touching it-"

"I know what the staff is like," Raziel interrupted. He had used it temporarily when he had fought Manus. A part of him wanted to keep it with him just in case, but his rationality won out in the end and he left it in the abyss in order to make it easier for him to carry Dusk out of there. He should have expected that someone could just go in there and take it for themselves after everything was said and done.

"Well then, I suppose I needn't explain what its like then," Osmond sighed in relief, "Regardless, he called himself an Undead, and I didn't believe him. He told me that my belief wasn't necessary and that all he needed was an explanation on where he was right now. After I answered all his questions, he left the staff with me and told me that he would find his own way here. He claimed that the thing was more trouble than it was worth and that he didn't need it with him.

"...Why are you telling me this?"

"Why? Well I suppose its because his message pertains to you," Raziel tilted his head in confusion, "Let me explain. When I told him that Undead were a mere myth and that his usage of the staff - impressive as it was - didn't prove he had conquered death, he told me to wait for anyone else claiming the same as him and to show them something after they did so. He told me that if it was the person he thought it would be, that they would recognize it."

"Recognize what?" Osmond didn't reply, making do instead with placing a box on the table. The box was small, but Raziel could see the ornate silver decorating its top. They were shaped like vines and leaves. This thing obviously held some sort of value, "He had told you to give them a box?" He asked, confused. Certainly it was a good looking box, but that didn't prove recognizable to him.

"Its not the box, but rather its contents," The wizened old man opened the container slowly and pulled out its contents. A necklace, made of stone and using a vine instead of a string, "He claimed that-"

Raziel didn't pay attention to whatever he was saying. The pendant...he knew what it was. Manus' pendant, the damnable thing that caused that bloated monster to drag him back to the past. His left hand twitched, the skin corroding into a blackened mist. The Dark Hand was acting up, though the reason for it escaped him. He closed his eyes and focused his energy on his left hand. He needed to keep it under control.

"Ah, but that's a story for another time," Osmond didn't realize he had ignored his long tangent, "Regardless, he told me to give this to whoever managed to use the staff and claim that they were Undead like he was. Let me ask you: Did you use the staff?"

"...Yes..." He twitched as his hand protested at his forced cancellation, "...I had used it against the golem...although it wasn't pleasant." Seeing that pendant was causing him discomfort for some reason. He tried not to think too hard about his dream from earlier. Thinking too hard on things was an unnecessary discomfort, and he found little reason to stress himself too much without needing to.

"Ah, I thought so," Osmond lowered the necklace back onto the box, "He told me that only an Undead could use the staff at its full strength. Anybody else would get a weaker form, or so he claimed." That explained why he was able to use the Dark hand to block the dark flame and beads. If the staff was at full strength, any resistance he tried to put up would have been destroyed.

"...Did he give you his name?"

"Unfortunately not," He frowned, "I don't even know his face, truth be told. He wore something resembling a theater mask and a top hat, so I can't say I saw his facial features at all- Ah, I do remember that he also had a large crossbow on him. He told me that the weapon was a staple from where he came from and that finding it anywhere else was near impossible."

"...I see..." He didn't need to be a genius to understand who had saved the headmaster. There was only one person who had access to the pendant, one person who could have made their way into the abyss and taken the catalyst from its rotted core.

Chester.

Undead were immortal, after all, so it didn't surprise him that the headmaster claimed he was saved many years ago. But there was something bothering him: How did the damned Carim aristocrat make his way here? The map he had seen claimed no way to Lordran, or any of the other lands for that matter, so making his way here would have been near impossible. Was he summoned just like he was?

"You should destroy the staff," Raziel commented aloud.

"I'm afraid its not your place to say what should be done about the staff," Osmond tapped the top of the box gently, "As of right now, this staff is a sacred artifact of this school. I can no more legally destroy it than you could. We aren't here to discuss the staff," He offered the small box to him, "My savior told me to give the pendant to whoever recognized it."

Raziel raised his left hand to the offered box before recoiling quickly. His skin was corroding and the dark magics that had been re-awakened in his body, "No...keep the pendant," He felt a sense of disappointment as the old man honored his request. He didn't understand it. For some reason he felt like he wanted it, despite all logic telling him that getting the pendant of the 'Father of the Abyss' wasn't a good idea. He sighed. Control was more important than anything.

"But enough about that now," Osmond intoned, "When it comes down to it, I've met two people in this long life of mine who claim that they have surpassed death. Tell me, do you feed on blood to sustain yourself like the ancient vampires do? Or perhaps you eat flesh and bone like the mighty minotaurs? Because from what I've seen so far, you're not that far-off from ordinary humans."

"Neither," Raziel frowned at the thought of drinking blood or cannibalizing others, "Undead survive just like everybody else. We need Humanity to keep ourselves from Hollowing, but so long as we do not give in to despair, we do not lose ourselves to our baser needs. Unless you plan to kill me over and over again to see if I break, I see no need to seek out Humanity.

"Humanity?" Colbert was the one to ask this time.

"Think of it like how you and everyone else need food and water to survive. To an Undead, Humanity is like food to us. But we only need to 'eat' when we lose out to our despair," Raziel pointed his pointer finger up in the air and spun it in a circle, "It is a cycle. Undead are killed on sight and hunted down, forcing us to kill people and take their humanity in order to stop our despair from completely overtaking us and destroying our mind. If one side stopped, then the slaughter would end."

"And I'm assuming this...Humanity is taken from living people?" Raziel nodded, "How dangerous is it for the receiver?"

"In most cases, killing the person is the only way to take their Humanity," He saw Colbert tense at his words, "But there are other methods. We can take it forcefully without killing the host, although they may be in pain after the action. There are times, such as in the case of willing donors, that taking their Humanity can be done without hurting either side. But that requires trusting an Undead, which no person is so easily willing to do."

"And so these need to eat...this only happens rarely?"

"Only to stop ourselves from dying completely," Raziel shrugged, "If you are worried about my actions, then please trust me when I say that I have no plans to kill anyone in order to sate myself. This place is peaceful, and its inhabitants have not tried to kill me...save for that one incident," He coughed awkwardly, "I am here because my master saved me. I do not wish to harm others and endanger my place here."

Raziel was aware that he hadn't told them that he gained strength with every kill, but he saw little reason to tell them that. He had no intention of fighting or killing anyone save those who threatened his master. Telling them that he was essentially a parasite who killed to become stronger would have caused no end of paranoia to everyone here. Sometimes a lie was required.

At his words, the balding teacher finally allowed himself to relax. Undead or not, if he was willing to co-exist peacefully then he would garner no troubles from him. He supposed he should have been more scared or wary, but his experiences told him that humans were capable of being more monstrous than any monster he had fought against. He feared the cruelty man was capable of more than anything else. The capacity for someone to actually enjoy the sight and sound of someone suffering as their skin melted or as they choked on overbearing water.

"Your present state of life aside," Now that was something he had never imagined himself saying, "I'm interested in the magic you showed us earlier. You called it Pyromancy, did you not?" He nodded, "Well, do you mind if I cast a 'detect magic' spell on you? It would give us undeniable proof that you do have mage blood within you. Perhaps you may be an aristocrat." That and he might have secrets on peaceful applications of fire. Obviously someone who was capable of taking fire within themselves used it for more than war, right?

"Do as you wish."

At his consent, Colbert raised his staff and chanted the detection magic. What he saw surprised him: Mages held magic in their veins, this was true, but this wasn't meant literally. Usually when detect magic was cast on a Mage, the caster would see an 'aura' or blanket of magic around them; one that was usually visually distinct based on the element.

But his case was extremely odd. Colbert could see the magic inside him, colors that were undoubtedly fire circulating throughout his entire body. He concentrated the spell further. At first glance it would appear he was using fire to augment himself, or maybe he was using a fire-cloak spell like a shield. But no matter how hard he looked, there was no mistaking it: The magic was inside him. Under normal circumstances that would have been impossible; the person would burn themselves alive from the inside out. But here it was.

Upon closer inspection, Colbert could see the fire flowing throughout his body like blood. But that was impossible. Even a dead corpse would burn itself out if someone tried to circulate fire through it. Logically speaking, he should've been in massive pain right now, enough to drive even the most experienced warrior insane. Colbert looked down at the Undead's left hand. The fire magic seemed to deliberately avoid that place, and he could see why - There was a darkness there, some magic that he didn't understand. It twisted and corroded with every second that passed, like a beast trying to escape its leash. He'd never seen anything like it before.

"Do you see anything?" Raziel's tone held some slight amusement to it, "Pyromancy is a chaotic magic. We use the fire in ourselves to attack others that would try to harm us," He flicked his right hand, covering it in a light coating of fire, "But this magic is dangerous. If we let emotions take control or we lose ourselves in anger and rage, then it will consume all of us."

"You use the magic...inside you?" Colbert asked confusedly, "That's impossible. Fire magic, Earth magic, Wind magic, Water magic. All of these magics used by Mages are the manipulations of the elements around us, not inside our bodies. A water Mage wouldn't be able to use their magic effectively if they were in the dessert, and neither would an earth Mage suspended in the air. Using our own bodies as a catalyst...that's impossible."

"And yet I am doing it now," Raziel clenched his fist and doused the flame, "Believe what you wish. You had asked for an explanation and I gave you one," The flat way in which he talked made it hard to tell how he was feeling, but Colbert could hazard a guess that he was slightly irritated at his explanation being ignored.

"No, its not as if I'm saying you're lying," The professor laughed awkwardly, "Rather, I'm amazed. Magic like this would seem impossible, especially to me who's a teacher. But you've shown me proof otherwise," He nodded excitedly, "Could you please show me more of this magic of yours? This is positively intriguing! Fire magic in the body, which means fire's being used without destroying everything it touches. Please, this could be the breakthrough that I've been looking for so many years for. And imagine the possibilities of internal magic!" The professor was energetic, that much Raziel could ascertain.

This was the opposite reaction he expected. Sorcerer's - or Mages, as they fit to call themselves - prided themselves on their uses of Soul magic and their hatred for the 'chaotic' Pyromancy. Granted, he hadn't actually seen anyone use Soul magic here yet. This school used some kind of weird magic where the elements of nature were used as the source of power. Perhaps things were truly different here.

Raziel raised his hand to summon the flame again before he was interrupted, "As interesting as this is, we shouldn't take up more of your time," Osmond interrupted. Colbert looked like he was about to protest before the headmaster continued, "It has been a long and tiring day, Mr. Colbert. I must send a letter to the princess explaining today's events and I'm sure that you have your duties as well. Ms. Valliere's Familiar is no doubt tired from everything that's happened today. It would be best if he got some sleep."

"Undead do not require sleep," He replied flatly. He never thought the day would come when he would be annoyed someone ignored that he was an Undead.

"Regardless, I need to talk to Mr. Colbert about the upcoming ball," The older male coughed when Colbert threw him a surprised look, "Oh, don't be like that. A ball is the perfect thing to get our minds off today's events."

"Headmaster, I'm afraid I must question your judgement here," He protested, "The school has just been attacked by a magical thief and suffered numerous casualties because of a group of bandits. Several of our own students are in the clinics right now, barely clinging to life. I hardly think this is the proper time for a ball of all things."

"On the contrary, I think its the perfect time," The headmaster replied, "The students are panicking right now and they crave a return to the norms. The party will serve as a distraction, a return to the things they're used to. If we let them stew on what happened today, we'll have a lot of scared and paranoid students on our hands. A distraction to help them settle down and show that everything is still okay is just what we need."

"We will have to make doubly sure that nothing happens then," Colbert rebuked, "The teachers need to be on high alert and maybe we can use the Alviss in the dining hall as sentries to guard the area. We should also-"

Raziel turned to leave before he heard more of the conversation. This didn't concern him.

* * *

"Get out of here!"

Those were the first words Raziel had heard as he opened the door to his master's bedroom. He was immediately tempted to turn around and leave, but un/fortunately it became evident she wasn't talking to him. He blinked, trying to understand the imagine in front of him. His master was fuming, which was pretty much the norm nowadays. Tabitha was sitting in a corner wall and flipping a book, which he had learned was pretty much her default state. The only thing slightly out of place was Kirche lying down on his masters bed - Usually she was standing when they argued.

"Not until we talk about what happened today, Valliere~" Kirche replied back lightly, causing another fit of garbled insults to sprout from the smaller pinkette's mouth, "I know what I saw: Your Familiar used the 'Staff of destruction'. There's no mistaking it. So whoever you got as your Familiar, they might have noble blood in them. Don't you feel like you should know who your Familiar really is?"

"I...I know who he is," Louise bluffed quickly, "He's my Familiar. Regardless of how he looks or acts, I summoned him and that means he's bound to me by the runes." Right, she just had to keep telling herself that. Nevermind the fact that he was a self-admitted re-animated corpse or that he thought brutal murder was the best course of action for everything. Right, her was her Familiar.

"Why don't we just ask him then?" Kirche finally noticed him, "I'm sure he'd be able to explain better than you could."

Louise turned around and gave a small 'eep' of surprise when she saw him. Evidently she hadn't heard him enter. Her mind quickly went into overdrive. She needed to think of a lie that wouldn't extend to him revealing he was an Undead and the two of them being burned by some kind of Romalian inquisition. No doubt the Germanian barbarian would use the information for blackmail.

"Ask me what?" He closed the door behind him silently and tried to ignore the weariness that set in him at the sight of the hay bed that his master had prepared for him days ago. Many would have called the wooden and straw 'bed' to be insulting and degrading, but he actually found it appropriate. Granted he was a person who used to 'sleep' next to bonfires by sitting down, so maybe he wasn't the best judge.

"Ah, there you are, darling," Raziel was quickly growing tired of that nickname, "We were just talking about what happened earlier," She sat up from the bed, "You used the staff of destruction, right? Don't bother saying no because I already saw it. Valliere here isn't saying anything, and I'm hoping you're more open about what you just did."

"That is because-"

"Because he's a Mage from Rub' al Khali!" His master interrupted loudly, throwing him a glare that promised horrible things if he didn't cooperate, "That's right. The staff was an artifact from Rub' al Khali and he used it because he came from there." That had to be the most absurd lie she'd ever made in her life. She doubted anyone would really believe her.

"Hmm, that does make some sense," Kirche nodded. Of course the Germanian reject would believe her, "Anyway, if he really is a Mage, doesn't that make Razi here a noble according to Brimiric law?" She didn't really know much about it to be honest. Germania had little faith in religion - which was one of the reasons they were considered barbarians - and the same could be said of her family. She was never really taught much about the Brimiric faith, but rather was raised to believe that your own efforts (and money) mattered more than anything.

"...Rub' al Khali doesn't have Nobility," She bluffed again, "Right, from where Raziel comes from, they don't really have a system of Nobility. Many people who have magic are treated the same as everyone else," She nearly gagged at the thought. Mages that were considered just the same as everyone else? She couldn't imagine a world like that. But it was the only lie she could use that had no holes.

"So he's a Mage without a title? Makes as much sense as the 'Zero' summoning a human Familiar to begin with," She shrugged and turned to him, "Hey, darling, why don't you show us what magic you're capable of? You can borrow my wand if you like." Given that her wand was between her large hills at the moment, and that she made no effort to remove it herself, it was glaringly obvious to Louise what her rival was trying to do.

"No need," Raziel raised his hand concentrated briefly. Kirche wondered what he was trying to do before a burst of flame covered his entire palm, "Pyromancy does not require a catalyst." He raised his pointer finger up slightly and focused the fire on it. The appendage looked like a makeshift matchstick.

Kirche's eyes widened. He was casting magic without a wand. More importantly, he was casting **_fire_ **magic without a wand! Not even the greatest square class Tabitha looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow ever so slightly at the odd sight. Wandless magic was done only by the firstborn races, but those cases were usually spirit magic. Wandless elemental magic was even rarer.

"I knew there was a reason Flame liked you!" Raziel blinked in surprise at Kirche's overtly happy reaction, "This is really great, Raziel! Not only a fire Mage, but even capable of doing it without a wand!" She continued to rattle off some more things, but Raziel had already learned to tune out. He wasn't used to people talking so much. In Lordran, you talked straight and to the point, mostly because you could get attacked at any time. If anybody considered it rude, then perhaps they should talk in clearer and shorter sentences. Tabitha seemed to understand that, at least.

"How do you know my name?" It was an odd thing to ask so suddenly, but he did honestly wonder how she knew what to call him. The only person he had ever actually told had been his master - and Derflinger by proxy of him being there - so it was kind of odd that she knew how to call him that, "I do not recall telling you."

"Hmm? Oh, you mentioned it in your sleep," She waved off his question, "But tell me more about that fire magic you just did! This is really amazing! If you had fire magic why didn't you use it against Guiche? Was that why you looked so different from when Valliere summoned you? What about the staff, what kind of magic was that? It kinda looked like fire."

Raziel looked at his master for help, but she had already thrown her hands up and given up. He sighed. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

The days passed quickly after that. Rebuilding the damage was the biggest concern for everyone in school, along with trying to regain a sense of normalcy. All the students had made a full recovery, which helped to preserve the nobles image that things were going to be just fine. And if anybody did die, the fact that nobody made a big stink about it meant their families weren't influential enough to matter, meaning that the nobility's image of prosperity had little chance of being disputed.

Everyone spent their time differently. The students that weren't recovering in the infirmaries had gotten back to their regularly scheduled classes. While many of them complained about returning to classes so soon after the tragedy, it was quite obvious that they were relieved for a return to the norm. The servants weren't as lucky and over half of them were assigned to cleaning up the damages that had been done to the school and its fields. Earth Mages helping them made the task easier, but it was still a lot of physical labour all around.

Life had returned to normalcy for Raziel...or at least, as normal as life in this place was. Kirche's questioning continued into the night, with him replying in either one-word answers or outright lies. His master had made it clear that telling anyone else that he was an Undead was an absolute impossibility, so he was forced to make up a fake background: Now he was an orphan who grew up on the streets of Rub' al Khali who had made a living for himself by using his fire magic for odd jobs before he had been summoned. Granted that was mostly Kirche filling in any holes he had in his explanation and him not doing anything to rebuke said claims. But it was as good a background as any, especially given that communication with the land was rare. There was no way to prove he was lying.

He had spent the past few days in a state of utter boredom. After the attack and return to classes, he was once again given free reign by his master on what to do when he wasn't forced to guard her. Talking with Siesta was impossible since he could never find her; different shifts, according to the servants he had talked to. Trying to read in the library proved impossible since he couldn't understand the words, so reading was out as well. Kirche had tried to chat him up, but his master had explicitly ordered him to stop talking with her and he obliged. As happy as he was to find someone who found Pyromancy intriguing, she took it a bit too far.

Rumors of Kirche, Tabitha and his master's capture of Fouquet had also spread, and soon after the three of them had gained a popularity boost with their peers. While there were those who doubted that the 'Zero' Louise was capable of capturing a thief, but their doubt was extinguished by the idea of the school lying in order to boost her reputation. Granted, nothing much had changed: People simply called her Zero behind her back rather than to her face.

A week had passed before the school officially announced the ball. Officially it was used to celebrate Fouquet's capture and the survival of the students from the attack. Unofficially it was because they needed something to get their mind off of the near death situation from a few days ago. The students were happy for the distraction, although the servants moaned at their increased workload.

It was because of this that he was in his current situation.

"Ah, where's that dress!" Louise rummaged in her closet, tossing multiple articles of clothing in a messy pile behind her, "Big sis Catt told me to wear that dress for special occasions. Where did I put it!?"

Raziel raised his hands and mimicked a yawn. He had once again been forced to change clothes - His armor had been torn to shreds and was borderline unusable by the time they had destroyed that Golem. It was mostly the same clothes he had been forced to wear when he first woke up, with the addition of sleeveless leather vest and more fitting pants. Louise had insisted that her wear more 'proper' clothes since it was embarrassing to have a Familiar who ran around looking like a beggar. He also noticed that the white shirt looked cleaner, most likely to emphasize her statement.

He scratched at his covered right eye. He had been forced to wear bandages, though it was more for appearances sake than anything else. Although his taking of humanity had saved him trouble in healing, he still had some injuries from his attacks. His master didn't want anyone being suspicious and so he was forced to once again cover himself in the white cloth.

"Found it!" Louise stood triumphantly, holding the pink dress in her hand like it was the answer to all of life's problems. Raziel raised an eyebrow at the ecstatic gesture, "Raziel, clean this mess up while I go prepare for the ball. After that you can do whatever you want."

He sighed, but followed her orders regardless. This was how their interactions usually went nowadays; completely ignoring one another except when she gave orders. After she had been forced to order him to spare Fouquet, coupled with her revelation that he was an Undead, they had taken to ignoring one another unless they absolutely had to. He was completely fine with that, to be honest. He had to protect her, that didn't mean he had to be friends with her. In fact, he couldn't recall considering anyone but Siesta a friend.

"Hey, is there something wrong with you and Pinky?" Derflinger piped up from his place next to the 'bed', "You've been ignoring each other for days now. Its not my place to worry, but in my experience the users and their masters work best together when they get along."

"We are fine, Derflinger," He grabbed the bundle of clothes and lifted them onto the bed. He would need to fold these, "I will protect master if she needs it." Yes, he would protect her, that was the binding. He wouldn't do any more than that. He wasn't the one she would talk to or seek out when she had personal problems, and he wouldn't consult her if he was unsure about life's meaning or other such endless concepts. They needed each other and they mutually benefited, but that was all it boiled down to.

"That's not the point," The sword clicked in annoyance and retreated back into his hilt. It was obvious that his partner wasn't in the mood to talk right now.

* * *

Music blaring, bright lights shining and food that could feed crowds of people at a time. It was obvious to anyone that the school had gone all out for the ball. Many students danced happily, grabbing people of the opposite sex and dancing to the gentle tune with steps they had been taught by their parents for proper conduct. Many would have been happy at the sight, or at least intrigued by the lights and sounds.

Raziel decided then and there that he hated balls. He plugged his ears as the annoying music continued to sound and did his best to look away from the overtly bright lights. The music irked him, mostly because he was not used to it. Music was something that never came up during his time in Lordran. Fights were eerily silent, save for the sounds of his opponents attacks. Bright lights were also rare due to the time he had spent in interiors. Seeing the bright illumination caused a slight headache to envelop him.

He was staying in the balcony. He probably could have gone in - the nobles inside were so festive that they had allowed their Familiar's in - but he had little interest in trying to pretend he enjoyed the noise and illumination. Besides, he would have preferred to be alone right now.

He chanced to see his master walking through the halls entrance. She was dressed up well- or at least, he thought she did. He placed little stock in appearance. She was wearing the pink dress from earlier and she had done up her hair. She was even wearing accessories: A tiara, a necklace and a pair of earrings. The males around her had taken notice and many of them immediately moved to invite her to dance with them.

He had seen Kirche and Tabitha earlier as well. The former was getting multiple invitations to dance the latter was in her own corner, reading a book as usual. He didn't bother trying to talk to either of them. Guiche was off trying to flirt with multiple girls into dancing with him again now that Montmorency had (mostly) forgiven him. Old habits died hard, as he had said before.

Looking up at the skies, he sighed. What was he doing here? He had thought he would have Hollowed by now. He had nothing much to live for at this point, which was usually the time his body would give up on life and he lost the will to go on. But he was still here, still listening to the annoying ballroom music. Maybe he should jump off this balcony right now. It would certainly be better than listening to the noise.

"Not enjoying the party, Mr. Familiar?"

Siesta gave a friendly smile when he turned to face her, "Long time no see, Mr. Familiar," She leaned into the balcony as well, "Why aren't you inside with Ms. Valliere? I would've thought you would be enjoying yourself by now."

"This music is hurting me," He replied flatly, eliciting some giggles from the dark haired maid, "I have not seen you for a few days now. Where have you been?"

"Cleaning up the mess that was left behind," She frowned, "There were so many buildings that had gotten destroyed when those bandits attacked. Not to mention helping out the nurses at the infirmary who were treating the students from their injuries," her frown deepened, "And after all that, they have a party and act like nothing happened at all. The nobility can be truly amazing at times."

"Siesta?"

"I hate the nobility, there's no way around it," She sighed, "They say that they protect us in exchange for our loyalty, but growing up I never really saw that. When a monster attacked our village once, we petitioned the local lord to send some knights to protect us. He ignored our request and we were forced to fight off the monster ourselves. Many of our villagers were seriously hurt."

"I am sorry..."

"Why are you apologizing?" She gave a forced laugh, "I'm sorry, I guess I'm lowering the mood. Its just...a couple of the servants were killed during the attack. They tried to help some students they'd seen in the smoke and they were killed defending them from some bandits. And now? The group of students are in there right now, dancing like nothing happened at all."

"People do their best to cling to what is familiar. It is how humans are..." He replied. He knew; many Undead he had met tried to cling to the things they knew in life. It was a vain attempt to stay sane.

"I suppose so," She laughed, though there was no enjoyment in it, "I'm sorry for acting so negative, Mr. Familiar. I guess I'm just angry. All of them are in there, acting like nothing happened at all, like their lives are perfect. None of them have to worry about a thing," She looked down at the ground below the balcony, "Head chef Marteu once told me that nobles are just born bad. Maybe he was right."

"You are wrong," He answered quickly, "Nobody in this world is born evil. In most circumstances, humans can be good. But when tempted with power, a person can change for the worse. Power is euphoric: Many crave it so they can dominate others or purely for the sake of having power. But many cannot handle power, and we end up hurting others. Blaming humans as naturally evil solves little."

He had made the mistake when he was first summoned here. Seeing Guiche, he had been quick to assume that all nobles were selfish tyrants in the making. But seeing the headmaster, Kirche, Tabitha and others who put themselves at risk to help others, he was forced to realize that his over-generalization wasn't going to work. All of these nobles were different, that was just how they are.

...Except princesses. They were all tyrants in the making.

"You sound so sure of that. Are you speaking from experience?" His lack of a reply was all the answer she needed, "I won't ask why you think so; we all have our own views, I guess," She stretched both her hands into the air and sighed, "I guess I really made things depressing here, huh? Sorry about that," She apologized again, "Is there anything you want to do now, Mr. Familiar?"

"Call me Raziel," He answered.

"Raziel?" The name felt odd in her tongue, "Is that your name?" He nodded, "Hmm, its nice. I don't think I've ever heard of anyone called like that before," She giggled, "But you didn't answer my question. Might I suggest you take my offer from before and go to the kitchens? All the servants are eating right now and they would like to meet you if possible."

Raziel shrugged and decided to accept her offer. Might as well, given that he had nothing better to do than contemplate the meaninglessness of his existence.

A flapping of wings jolted him out of his reverie. He saw the blue dragon up above, circling the field aimlessly. And, most important of all, he saw its tail swishing back and forth. He looked back at the party: Tabitha was still reading a book, meaning she wasn't watching her dragon right now. This was his chance- Gods damn it all, he forgot Derflinger in the room. He looked down at his hands. Well, he hadn't tried ripping a tail apart with his bare hands yet, but there was always a first time for everything.

"Mr. Fami- Raziel, are you alright?" She had to get used to the name change.

"Huh? Oh, yes, I am fine," The dragon was continuing to circle, so now was his chance, "Siesta, I will meet you in the kitchen. I must do something first." She barely managed to reply before he was running down the stairs into the field.

Irukukwu - or Sylphid, as she was usually known - sighed as did another circle over the field. She was **bored**! Big sister had told her to keep guard in case of possible attacks, but so far that had amounted to circling over the school with absolutely nothing to do. A part of her wished that something dangerous would show up in the school; maybe a wild beast that she could eat since she was so hungry.

The sound of footsteps approaching the field below reached her ears. An intruder? No, more likely it was one of those people called 'servants' that served the people in this school. Hmm, perhaps she could pester them for food? That was a good idea. With that thought it mind, she landed gently on the school grounds and waited for them to get closer. Maybe they would-

Oh no.

It was him!

"Kyuuu!" She shot up faster than she thought possible. Raziel cursed and tried to jump at her tail. He was going to get a new weapon if it was the last thing he did! The dragon, seeing his attempts at a jump, flew up higher into the air to try and stay away from him.

"Kyuuuuuuu!" She flew towards the back of the school, the determined Undead trailing behind her quickly. Mistress Pri had told her about them: Dragon hunters. They were distinguished by always going for the tail first and never needing sleep. She'd seen him walking around the campus during the nighttime, and that meant he was one of them! She didn't want to lose her tail!

The worst part of it was that she knew she couldn't fight back. Big sis had expressly forbidden her from attacking anyone humanoid in this school, and he was (unfortunately) human. Granted that probably meant humans who were non-hostile, but she wasn't willing to take that chance. She was a dragon, after all: Bloodlust and hunger for battle was in their instinct. If she attacked him, there was a likely chance she would cause a lot of property damage in the process. And if that happened then big sis wouldn't feed her for a week.

She turned the corner, temporarily losing his chase. But he was coming; she could hear his footsteps getting closer. There was no other choice. Big sis had told her not to do it unless she was truly desperate.

Right now, she was feeling really desperate.

Raziel scowled as he rounded the corner. This dragon was giving him way too much trouble. What was the big deal? So he cut off the tail and they had a little pain. It would grow back! The stone dragon in Ash lake didn't exactly complain when he had cut off its tail. Dragons could grow them back whenever they wanted, so running away was more effort than actually just letting it get cut.

A rustling of the leaves to his right brought him back to attention. Was the dragon hiding there? It looked too small to hold her, but he couldn't discount it. Dragons were clever creatures, after all. Dragon phobia or no dragon phobia, that tail was going to be his no matter what! Without thinking, he jumped into the shrub at full force.

"Eeek!"

That...didn't sound like a dragon. Blinking his eyes, he found himself face to face with a blue haired girl no older than Kirche, "...A girl?" He looked around him. The dragon was gone! Damn it, it had gotten away! He looked back down at the girl below him. He had tacked her without meaning to and now he was pretty much straddling her. It was an inconvenient position.

"...Who...are you...?" He got up slowly and offered her a hand up, which she ignored in favor of of jumping away from him. Looking closer, she wasn't actually wearing any clothes apart from the leaves covering parts of her body. He considered this briefly before understanding dawned on him: She was one of the Deprived. They were known for going around with no armor and sometimes even without weapons. Rumors were that it was because they had trained their bodies to a point that armor was unneeded.

"Oh, I'm no one!" She shook her hands quickly, "Just a stranger who got lost! Yup, that's all I am!"

"Lost?"

"Yup, lost! Which means I should try to find out where I am! See ya!" She pushed past him roughly. Raziel looked at her briefly before closing his eyes and shaking his head. He had no idea what one of the Deprived was doing here, but he wasn't going to question it. She had mentioned that she was lost, and she had left in a hurry. Perhaps she had somewhere to be.

Still, why could he not stop staring at her backside? He felt like there was supposed to be something there that was missing.

* * *

"Hey, Siesta, is this the young man you were talking about?" Raziel stumbled as the heavyset man grabbed him by the shoulders in a friendly hug, "Nice to meet you, Our Sword! My name is Marteau! Siesta's been talking a lot about you! Its good to finally meet you!"

When he had been told about the head chef, he had expected someone who was cynical of life and professional to a fault. What he got instead was a large man in his middle age who was probably the friendliest person he had seen with the exception of Siesta. This was the person who claimed that there were people just born bad? He sure didn't seem like it.

"Oh, how rude of me! Join us! We're in the middle of eating right now. Hold on, let me get a plate for you!"

Raziel sat down awkwardly next to Siesta. The other servants had greeted him happily, welcoming him to eat with them. He did his best to smile back at them. They were the first group of people who had welcomed him no questions asked. He tried to stifle his embarrassment. He wasn't used to spending time with a large group of people. The times he was with his master didn't count since the other nobles had effectively ignored him.

Times in Lordran were spent in isolation, and he had grown used to the idea of both living alone and dying alone. He wasn't shy to admit that he wasn't the most socially adept person.

The meal given to him was simple: Some meaty stew and a few loaves of bread. But given that he never ate anything save for the occasional herb, it looked quite substantial to him. He picked up the spoon and dunked it into the soup lightly. It felt odd to eat this way. Doing his best to maintain his composure, he raised the stew to his mouth and swallowed.

Were he an ordinary person, he would have smiled and told the head chef that this was one of the best meals he had in his life while angels sang in the background. But he tasted nothing right now. The soggy matter drifted across his tongue blankly before he forced himself to swallow. He taste buds were dead, just like the rest of his internal body. Gourmet cuisine was indistinguishable from dung pies to him. Many would have called being unable to taste a curse, but he cared little for it. He could never recall ever eating food, so there was no longing for what he had never felt.

"So how does it taste?" The head chef asked eagerly.

"...Delicious," He lied through his teeth. No need to waste the man's effort.

"Hahaha, I'm glad," He laughed jovially, "You see, Our Sword, this kitchen is the pride and joy for all of us here. We may not have magic like those snooty nobles, but we can make miracles with spices and meats that would make any man cry from the delicious taste. The food they're eating at that party right now are some of our best creations."

"Why are you calling me that?" He grabbed one of the loaves of bread and chewed; still nothing, as expected.

"What, you mean Our Sword?" He nodded, "Well, its a nickname we came up with since you beat that spoiled noble," He patted him in the back roughly, "But mostly its because you defended poor Siesta here. Poor girl here just can't leave well enough alone and got herself in trouble again. Although thinking on it, maybe she did it on purpose so she could find a dashing hero to save her-"

"Head chef!" Siesta protested loudly, causing the servants around her to chuckle at her rapidly reddening cheeks.

"Um, is it possible if you do not call me by a title? It is uncomfortable. Please call me Raziel," He suggested casually. In truth, the idea of being called with titles made him feel spasms of hate. He hated being called by title; it reminded him too much of when he was called 'The Chosen Undead'. He dealt with his master calling him 'Familiar' out of necessity.

"Ahahaha!" He clapped him roughly in the back again, "You're a modest guy, Raziel. I like that. Come, let me kiss you to show proof of that!" At his announcement, the rest of the servants collectively groaned. While the head chef was a good guy, he had a bad habit of being too affectionate in showing his friendliness. Granted he just kissed people in the forehead or the cheek, but his exuberance tended to rub people the wrong way. Raziel must have felt awkward now.

"Um...of course, if it please you," Many of them went slack jawed as he put down his spoon and turned to face the older male, "I am...inexperienced with kissing and other forms of affection. Could you please guide me? I apologize for any inconvenience." How embarrassing. Here he was being fed and welcomed and he couldn't even copy their customs as a form of gratitude. He needed to learn more about this place.

Raziel closed his eyes and raised his head up slightly. This was how they did kisses, right? He couldn't recall ever doing it in the past. He moved his lips nervously. He was already embarrassed being dragged into this place; he didn't want to embarrass himself even more by not being able to do their greeting customs. Granted he'd never actually heard of customs like this, but he wasn't one to question things.

The servants reactions were mixed. While many of them turned away at the impending expression, many of them had also taken to watching the upcoming action eagerly. Siesta could make out Lola and Aimee watching with bated breath, barely keeping their noses from bleeding. No surprise, considering some of the contents in the books they had lent her. She felt downright heretical after reading them. She would never look at cats and glasses the same way again.

For his part, the head chef was actually feeling apprehensive. When he said kiss he actually meant a kiss to the forehead, not a kiss on the lips. But what was there to do? He had invited him to do it and he said yes. It would be rude of him as a man to back out now.

The servant's gazes intensified as the head chef grabbed Raziel's shoulder. Were they truly about to see this?

"Excuse me!" Siesta smashed her hands against the table, "I forgot that I needed to show Raziel something. We have to go now!"

The answer to that would be no. Siesta grabbed Raziel's wrist and pulled him not-so-gently from his chair and out the door before anyone could comment on her actions. Although she did hear about a couple complaining that they were just getting to the good part.

* * *

"Siesta, what is it that you wish to show me?" He tried to keep his voice level, but the loud music was making it extremely hard for him too keep calm. They must have had those wind Mages augmenting the sound somehow; it was the only way to explain how the music reached them despite the pair being in the field and nowhere near the ballroom hall.

"That was a lie, Raziel," She panted. She had dragged him from the kitchens all the way to the field, and yet he wasn't tired at all. He must have kept fit, "I did it so you wouldn't have to kiss the head chef?" She lied down on the ground and looked up at the sky. The music was so relaxing that she was tempted to go to sleep. During balls and other celebrations, the lights were so bright and the music was widened with magic so much that one could probably see the school from the next town over.

"Why not?" He sat down next to her and put his knees close to his chest, untying the bandages from his face in the process. He didn't want to be half-blind, regardless of what his master had told him, "He seems to be an affable man."

"I know Mr. Marteau is friendly," She agreed, "But that doesn't mean you should kiss him. Kisses are usually signs of affection that you give to people you really care about. Family, lovers, but not to people you just met. A kiss is important and you can't just freely give it away to people."

"...Perhaps it is," He sighed. Things were so complicated around here. Guiche seemed to give away kisses a lot, if the rumors he had heard around campus were accurate. While calling him a friend would be dubious, he didn't hate him so much that he would think his every action carried with it negative connotations. Guiche seemed to try and be friendly, and he thought kissing was a part of that.

"Raziel, why do you speak so formally?" She suddenly asked, "I mean, you talked casually before. Now you talk so stiffly, like some of the nobles around here."

He didn't really know why. He had unconsciously started doing it after receiving dreams of his past. He felt little connection to the man in his dreams, and he slowly found himself doing his best to try and separate himself from him. The figure talked cheerfully and casually to everyone and he found himself talking stiffly and formally to try and separate himself.

"You're not even listening to me, are you?" She rolled her eyes at his half-focused nod, "Well, since we're here, why don't we try dancing? The music's certainly loud enough and we have nothing else to do with our time."

"Dancing?" He immediately felt iffy. Dancing wasn't something he was particularly good at. After all, how could he match those Channelers? The dance they conducted when they chanted their spells was particularly impressive...and yet also ridiculous. Could Siesta dance in the same way? He couldn't see a trident or anything else similar to it around her.

"Yes, dancing," She laughed at his confused expression, "Don't look at me like that! Even a country girl like me knows some of the dances the nobles do," She picked herself up and offered him a hand up, "Come on, I'll teach you the steps."

She wished she could say that it was perfect: Dancing with a friend, the moonlight above them and the music surrounding them. It had all the makings of a perfect setting, but that couldn't have been any farther from the truth. He stepped on her feet every three steps, their movements were uncoordinated, and they ended up nearly tripping over one another every three steps or so. From an outsiders perspectives, they looked like two puppets whose strings had been severed.

And yet, they still found it fun.

"This is dancing?" He placed his foot behind hers and changed his hand position, "This seems to be more like a form of unarmed combat training."

"Come on, its not that bad," She nearly tripped as her foot collided with his, "Okay, its kind of bad, but it can be fun once you get used to it!" She sighed and let go, "My grandmother taught me how to dance when I was young. She didn't teach me much before she passed away, but I always found it fun to try and dance to music and pretend none of our problems existed."

"I am not as good as you are in dancing, I must admit," He laughed, and oddly enough he found it coming out naturally. Usually it was either forced or sarcastic, "I do not have anything to do in the coming days, so could you teach me again tomorrow? I found it...enjoyable."

At his words, Siesta smile suddenly turned into a frown. But quick as it came it was gone and she had an even brighter smile on her face, "Of course! I know another few steps for beginners and the music can just be hummed to make it easier for the both us."

He smiled at her reply and waved goodbye to her. It was getting late and he needed to go back to his master's room before she arrived. Siesta waved at him as well, keeping up her smile even as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She couldn't tell him. She had avoided him the past week and tried to steel herself and make it easier, but even now she didn't have the guts to tell him. Her workmates acted like nothing was wrong, but even they were worried. She thought she could tell him now when they were alone, but she couldn't do it.

Her smile faltered, and a single tear dropped. She didn't know what was going to happen now. She'd heard the rumors, and she was scared on what would happen to her. He had promised to protect her, but counting on him to that degree was asking for too much. Sucking in her breath, she stood up and made her way back to the servants quarters. She needed to pack the last of her things and say her last goodbyes.

Raziel wouldn't see her again tomorrow.

* * *

**Necrofantasia - He doesn't want the staff :/ **

**Lia Silverclaw - Fixed.**

**Demons Anarchy - Wasn't this question asked and answered before? Anyway, I'll leave the reactions a secret for now. **

**OmegaHouse - No offense, but how did you miss the flashback chapter with Ghough? That should have made it obvious that he did the DLC.**

**Kraut - Don't make too many theories :) Like he said, the name 'Manus' is more of a designation than an actual name. You could technically call all of the monsters you fight in the DLC as Manus. Although Seath's appearance does change things. Seath is blind in canon, and yet he has eyes in the flashback chapter. Do the math and guess what 'Manus' might end up doing.**


	16. Twisted Viewpoints

**This will be the last chapter to have a T rating. Unless I bleach the next chapter, its going to require an M rating in order to avoid being purged. Since I'm not good with fight scenes, I'm just gonna have to get very...detailed with how damage is shown. So to anyone still reading, switch to the M rating :) **

**Don't worry: I don't plan to write sex scenes or the like. Unless something mindblowing happens during the sex, I find it best to just let the audience imagine what actually happened. That and if I can't write fight scenes to save my life I doubt I can make a sex scene: A scene of a person plugging in a USB into its port would be more erotic than any lemon I try to write. **

* * *

He had seen a lot of things in his life. Undead being ritually sacrificed to prolong an age of nothing but suffering; the alternative to said age being eternal and everlasting darkness; an ancient conspiracy that decided the fate or the world; the so-called progenitor of mankind being nothing more than a demented ape that destroyed with every touch; and even a gender confused God with father issues. He had seen all these things and more, and he doubted he could ever find anything that would surprise him as long as he 'lived'.

But seeing the scene in front of him now, he had to realize that he was mistaken on that.

"Its not my fault! That girl kissed me that time!" Guiche wailed, hugging his mole closer to him, "She said she wanted to know what a kiss felt like and I felt that it was my duty as a gentleman to oblige her!" He defended. After all, what kind of self-respecting noble didn't honor a fair maiden's wish? Yes she was likely drunk from the absurd amount of wine they all drank, but a part of her certainly must have desired it if she was conscious enough to ask.

"And who would believe a playboy like you, huh?" Louise kicked him roughly, eliciting a pained moan from the blond fop, "Montmorency was right to accuse you of cheating! A kiss? More like an attempt at fornication. I don't how she hasn't killed you yet," She pressed the small glass she held in her hands against her lips and drank audible gulps of the red liquid stored within, "You deserve everything you got."

Raziel had thought coming to his master's room would grant him peace and quiet, but instead he had come upon chaos. The bed was a mess, Guiche's mole Verdandi using it to wrap around itself like some kind of armor. Guiche himself was on the floor, crying and moaning about how life was unfair to his mole, who he could've sworn was actually nodding at his master's complaints.

But the worst part was actually his master. She was on the ravaged bed, holding a small glass filled to nearly the tipping point with wine. He raised his head slightly and sniffed the air: Alcohol. He grimaced. He hated the smell of the liquid. Every time he passed by the kitchen during his nightly explorations he smelled the foul smelling liquid. Both the students and the servants evidently liked drinking wine, a habit which he did not share. It was pointless anyway - If he couldn't taste, he doubted that alcohol could affect him in any way.

"Ah, its so stuffy in here," His master grabbed one of the gloves covering her hands - likely a part of her dress - and pulled it off roughly, "Why is this place so warm? I don't remember going into Zerbst's room," She turned back to Guiche, "Hey, you worthless noble! Why not use some magic to cool this place down? Be good for something, at least!"

"Do I look like a wind Mage to you!? And who are you calling useless!?" Guiche yelled from his place on the ground, although Raziel noted that he did attempt to wave his wand and mutter a wind spell. Nothing came out, of course. Louise groaned and gulped down more wine, removing her remaining glove. Why was everything so hot? She just didn't understand it.

...What was going on here?

"Hey, partner, good of you to make it!" Derf called out, clicking his hilt energetically, "Looks like pinky and blondie here had a little too much to drink. Damn lightweights the two of them-"

"Shut up, stupid sword!" His master kicked clumsily from the bed, the shoe she was wearing releasing its hold on her foot and flying towards Derflinger's sheath. The talking sword immediately slammed back into its sheet as the heeled footwear hit dully against his sheath. As much fun as it was to make fun of drunks, trying to insult drunken Mages was a recipe for disaster. Many of his past near death experiences were when he thought insulting his drunken fire Mage master was a good idea.

"Hey, did that sword just talk?" Guiche looked up at Derflinger before another bout of head pain forced him down, "Damn, I need more wine. I'm hallucinating about talking swords now. Haha," He pawed at the ground for a few seconds before extracting another bottle of wine, "Ahh, here it is!" He unfastened the cork and sniffed its contents; slightly watered down, but good enough to get him to forget about his problems.

"Hey, what are you even doing here?" His master suddenly asked, "I don't recall us ever being friends, so why are you in my room? Get out already." She pointed a wobbly finger at the window. Raziel could only assume she meant to point at her door as the idea of Guiche jumping from the window would inevitably lead to his death. Because it wouldn't be very noble to kill people, wouldn't it?

"H-How cruel! You would leave me out there with no defense against Montmorency!?" Guiche tipped the bottle over, spilling it against his lips clumsily and staining his white formal wear with the purple liquid, "She tried to kill me! All I did was talk with that girl and she tried to kill! And the others laughed at me too!" He flailed the bottle around angrily, nearly hitting Raziel with its contents, "They thought it was funny that I nearly got killed! What kind of person enjoys seeing a guy get nearly killed by his beloved?"

"So says the one who challenges to duels so easily," Raziel snarked, although the two ignored him. He rolled his eyes in annoyance; the two were so sloshed that they didn't even hear him. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. They smelled heavily of alcohol and sweat, but that wasn't the worst part. The already disastrous mixture was mixing with the perfumes they wore and turned the normally sweet smell somewhat repugnant. Of all things, he would've wished that his sense of smell died with his sense of taste.

"Whose fault do you think that is?" She frowned and looked down at her glass; it was empty, "Damn it, out of wine," She tossed the glass nonchalantly at her bed and laid down on the bare mattress. Normally she wouldn't have gotten this drunk - she always made sure to dilute her wine with fruit juice - but one sip of the undiluted drink and all sanity went out the window. She was sure she was going to regret this come the next morning when she saw her room's state, but right now she just wanted to relax.

...She was sure she'd just blame it on Raziel come morning anyway.

"Hey, just let me stay here for a while, Valliere," Guiche mumbled, hugging Verdandi tighter, "Montmorency's going to drown me in a tidal wave if she sees me right now. I don't want to die just yet, I have so much to live for," He gave a lopsided grin, "Besides, you must be used to sleeping in the same room with guys by now. I've heard some of the rumors of what you and your Familiar-"

"Raziel, please drop Guiche from the window."

Raziel frowned at his master's abrupt command, but picked up the youngest Gramont and his mole Familiar regardless. Verdandi gave a loud squeak, obviously not expecting the frail-looking human to be able to pick him and his master up so easily. The Undead grunted and hoisted Guiche over his shoulder, using both hands to lift the nearly bear sized mole from the ground. Many would have found his feat of strength impressive, but he came from the land where people thought making weapons out of stone and dragons teeth was a good idea. Verdandi was positively lightweight in comparison.

He was relieved to have most of his strength back. When he had first been summoned he was still weak from his time in the Kiln and couldn't even push off the blue dragon as it tried to mercilessly eat him. Now he could probably lift bear-sized with some effort. He smiled, though it was quickly replaced by a frown as the mole trashed against his grip. Unknown to him, moles disliked being out of the ground.

Contrary to his master's orders, Raziel turned away from the window and walked back to the door before quickly throwing the two of them out into the hall. It wasn't gentle, but at least he didn't toss them out the window and watch as their bones snapped and their limbs broke upon contact with the unforgiving ground, crying in pain and wishing that death would just claim them as he watched the life ebb away from their body in slow agony.

No, he only did that once, and he was pretty sure Gravelord Servant deserved it. Death worshiping idiots.

"You didn't follow my orders," Raziel turned around and found Louise scowling at him, although her tomato red face diminished any fear he might have felt, "Of course, why should I expect any different? You always disobey me. You're my Familiar and yet you always go off when I sleep and try to murder everyone that you fight." She laughed, a gesture devoid of joy, "But how could I forget? You killed those bandits so easily. You burned that man's face till he died. I bet you get off on it. You enjoy it, don't you? Seeing people die. You're probably laughing at how it will never happen to you, being some kind of corpse."

As he family could attest, Louise tended to be an angry drunk: All that bottled up resentment from being unable to cast magic coupled with the mocking of her peers and disappointment from her family, Louise tried her hardest to keep it contained. But without her sensibility, not to mention the stress of the current situations, she needed an outlet. She needed to let off all her anger even if it meant making up things she didn't really mean.

"Would you have preferred it if I did not help you? That you died?" His right eye twitched. He prided himself on being calm under adversity, but his master's constant questioning of his actions was already beginning to grate on him, "It would certainly be a relief to no longer have to hear your hypocritical spiels. You may have saved me, but let us not pretend that you did so out of kindness or good intentions. You needed a servant to protect you and I have done so. And yet, all you have given me is hatred and fear."

He was lying. Despite his master's abrasive nature she had actually accepted him as her Familiar despite knowing of his morbid circumstances. But anger had a tendency to cloud his judgement.

"How do you think I feel right now, huh?" She stood up on wobbly legs and stomped over to him, "All those people you killed? They're my responsibility. Every person that dies by a Familiar's hands is the responsibility of the master," She stabbed at his chest with her pointer finger, "You have it so easy! Every kill, every person that no longer lives isn't your responsibility anymore. I have to take the burden."

"I have never asked you to take responsibility," He pushed her finger off, "I am your Familiar and I choose to remain so out of gratitude, but do not act as if you know what it is to take a life. I have killed so many that I have lost count, I watched my friends Hollow and give in to despair. You have never done so and pray to your Gods that you will never have to bear the true burden of taking a life."

"Hah, don't act so high and mighty," She attempted to push him, although her current tipsiness allowed for nothing more than a feeble brush, "What do you know about death? My mother and father told me tales of what war is like. You're a corpse! You're not alive, you're just dead person clinging to life. You don't care about death because you're so used to it. Do you even know what happens to someone when they die? I bet you don't."

Raziel clenched his fist and tried to ignore his shaking arm. He wanted to punch her, to wipe off the smug smile that she had on her face. She was intoxicated, unaware of her actions. It would've been pointless to try and argue with her about life and death. She was a child, still innocent to the ways of the world. She thought she could live life guilt-free and that she could absolve herself of her sins. He envied her, truly. But he knew that there was nothing waiting for him: He was a corpse living on borrowed time.

Who cares if people died? He would've been content to die right here. That was all the Undead wanted: To die without Hollowing. All humans wished for death unconsciously; a release from the things that troubled them. He pushed past her and began trying to fix the destroyed bed. He needed to do something, anything to keep his mind off his master's taunts. But even he knew he was a coward: If he wanted to die he would've just slit his throat. A part of him still wanted to live, although death would've been a release at this point.

"What's wrong? Can't admit that I'm right?" He pursed his lips and ignored her. He needed to keep calm, "Of course, I can't expect someone like you to know what it feels like to sacrifice-"

That was the last straw. Raziel grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall roughly. He wanted to shut her up, he wanted her to keep quiet. What did she know about sacrifice? Just because she thought she was taking responsibility for him suddenly meant she knew what it felt like to sacrifice. He had burned for years, he had sacrificed in order to prolong an age of suffering because the alternative was that much worse. He knew what sacrifice was, not her. But maybe he could change that-

"Partner! Let go of her!"

Derflinger's voice reached his ears. Following the warning, he released his grip on her shoulders and watched a she slowly slid down the wall. She had fainted from shock when he first slammed her against the wall. He looked down at his right hand and tried to keep his shock from spilling onto his face. He had reached for his side on instinct, trying to grab for Derflinger. If he was actually there then what would he have done?

His hands shook. He was so used to it, so used to the idea of killing that he did it habitually. Back during his journey, anything he perceived as a threat or anything that had peaked his anger had quickly met the end of his blade. Patches and Chester had survived because they were Undead like he was, capable of taking blows that would kill normal men. But what of his master? She was human and appeared frail even against her peers. If Derflinger hadn't warned him he likely would've stabbed her...and killed her.

He backed away and sat against the wall, covering his head with shaking hands. He wasn't crying; Undead were incapable of doing so. But he was so close: Close to killing her, close to ending her life without even a second thought. Death here was different. In Lordran every monster he killed was replaced by another, every Hollow was eventually followed by another person who had lost their sanity. He was had stopped caring about death because he assumed it would never end - That there would always be another monster for him to kill again.

And he almost ended his master's life then and there. There would be no replacement for her, nobody else who would take her place. He clenched his hand into a fist and smashed it against the wall, gritting his teeth at the slight pain. Ultimately, his master was right. He killed so much that he honestly stopped caring about what happened after. Killing served his purpose and he did to defend himself. But that wouldn't work here. Killing was his first instinct. And while it saved him in Lordran, it would only cause him problems here.

"Hey partner, you alright?" Derflinger piped up, "I know Pinky can get annoying at times, but that was just the wine talking. She's probably not going to remember anything about it tomorrow," He chuckled, "Might wanna get her back to bed though. She doesn't like sleeping on the floor like us two distinguished gentlemen."

Nodding numbly, he picked up his master and gently laid her down on the bed. Ignoring Derflinger's attempts to chat him up, he sat down atop his hay bed and pressed his knees against his chest. He needed to sleep, to do something that would take his mind off what had just happened. Maybe he could lose himself in his dreams again.

* * *

"Are you alright?"

Rhea looked up from her place on the ground. There was a knight there, offering her his hand to help her up. She shook her head. She was getting delusional, she was sure of it. She didn't know how long she'd spent here; maybe it had been years, or maybe it had been just a moment. Time in Lordran was convoluted, after all. They had fully expected to face the necromancer who held the rite of kindling at his library, but by the time they got there he had already been defeated.

She just didn't understand it. They had come here first, and yet the necromancer's library was damaged enough that it was glaringly obvious that someone had already defeated the 'Pinwheel'. Petrus was the first to claim that their task was hopeless and that they should turn back, but Vince had insisted that the necromancer must've been deeper in and that they should take their chances going in with their increased numbers.

They had met Patches soon after that. He had told them that the necromancer they sought was in the bottom of the pit. Vince, Nico and her had looked down, trying to see if he was telling the truth. That was when he had pushed them all in. Petrus was the only who could have saved them and he ran away, leaving them down in the pit. Rhea couldn't blame him; she had doomed them all in choosing to trust the bald trickster. In his position she doubted she would've been brave enough to jump down and help her companions. She was a coward.

The three of them had all tried to escape, but it became evident why exactly Patches chose this pit. Nico was the first to die; killed by one of the Giant archers. Vince had died defending her from one of the more bestial Undead. She ran away, fearing for nothing but her life and not for her companions. She was trapped now - She could hear their footsteps shuffling in the darkness. They couldn't see her in the darkness, but she had glimpsed their faces enough that he knew that they had Hollowed. Her friends were dead and it was her fault.

"You're Rhea, aren't you?" The knight had spoken again? Was he truly real then? "What are you doing here- Wait, let me guess: Tricked by the man up there that there was treasure down this pit?" He sighed, "Not my best moment of intelligence, I must admit. Come then, we should get out of here? Can you walk? I want to give him a piece of my mind and a sword in the gut."

Realization dawned on the young maiden's face. He was real; she wasn't alone here. She wiped her eyes - A superficial gesture since Undead were incapable of producing tears. Old habits died hard. She was a scared little girl again, doing her best to try and appear like she knew what she was doing. Like her father hadn't sent her on what amounted to a suicide mission.

She was no fool. Even if she had found the rite of kindling things would never have been the same. Her father claimed that he still loved her, but she could see the disgust in his eyes. His only daughter had turned into an Undead, one of the abominations the church of Thorolund ritually sacrificed in order to appease the God's. Her turning of an Undead was an embarrassment to their entire family. She thought that at least if she brought back the rite of kindling she could make her father proud, but that was an impossibility now.

"So we should-" Raziel "oofed" as Rhea suddenly hugged him by the stomach, "Um, Miss. Rhea? We only met once before and you had told me that we had our own tasks. I hardly think we made friends with one another that you'd greet me so happily."

"You...you're no Hollow," He laughed at the blunt comment and shrugged, "F-Forgive me for my rash actions," She released her grip on him and stood up shakily, "Tis simply a relief to find one who has kept their senses," She bowed in apology, "Once again, I apologize for my uncouth behavior. It is simply relieving. I thought that I would meet my end in this dark pit."

He smiled underneath his helmet, "Lucky I came along then, right?" She nodded, forcing a smile on her face, "Come then. We should find our way out of here before the Hollow's come get us."

They had met Vince and Nico on the way up. Vince was the first to fall: He had been felled easily by the masked knight. Rhea suppressed a cry at seeing her friend cut down so casually. Vince was her closest friend; they had been friends since childhood and attended the church duties and the academy together. Her fellow priestesses joked amongst themselves that he held affection for her, but she disregarded the rumors. She was a priestess and they were unable to marry or bear children. Her father had tried to make a male heir in order to continue the line.

Nico was second. She bit into her hands and closed her eyes when she had seen him. He was still on the ground, impaled by the arrow that the giant had shot against him. Once again Raziel didn't even think twice before ending his life. She silently felt gratitude that she was incapable of crying. Nico was 'simple'. Many derided him for having childlike intelligence and being unable to keep up with his peers. She and Vince had taken it upon themselves to care for him to try and show him kindness. And apart from Vince he was the only one who didn't hesitate to accompany her on this journey.

Rhea bit her lip. Raziel didn't even recognize them. To him they were just faceless masses: Another being to die against his blade. She spoke little on the trek back to the bonfire. He had tried to talk to her, but her mute replies were more than enough for him to surmise that she didn't feel like talking. She heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of the burning sword. They would be out of here soon.

"Alright, we can use the Lordvessel's power to transport you out of here," He raised up his helm and smiled at her, "Could you wait a moment? I'll kindle the bonfire so that we can regain something for our Estus flasks."

Rhea's eyes widened as she saw him sacrifice three tufts of Humanity. Impossible, the only way to do that would be if he had the-

"Ahh, that was really lucky," Raziel took a swig of the Estus flask, "I'll admit, when I first saw that guy with the weird masks I was scared. But the reward was completely worth the trouble," He looked back at her and grinned, "Who would've thought he knew magic that would allow me to kindle the bonfire even further? Ahh, but I wish I didn't have to sacrifice Humanity to do it."

Rhea shook her head, trying to keep her breath composed. He had the rite of kindling. He had killed the Pinwheel and taken what it was they had sought for so long. And he didn't even care to know what it was. To her it was her one chance at redemption, but to him it was a simple tool to make his unlife easier for him.

"Hmm? Something wrong?"

"...No its nothing," A broken smile had made its way to her face. All of this was for naught. Her friends were dead and she would never be able to show her face to her family again. She could probably ask it of him, but there would be no point. She would be no better than a leech, feeding off the hardships of others. Fate had denied her salvation, "Shall we make our way back then?"

Raziel nodded and offered a hand to her. Rhea gladly accepted it.

* * *

When Raziel woke up that morning, he wasn't surprised to see his master still sleeping in her bed. Wearily he glanced outside, ignoring the annoyance spreading over his eyes at the sight of the bright sun. He had finally gotten used to the concept of sleeping without receiving head-splitting headaches, but he still wasn't used to his eyes being forced to adjust to brightness after being closed for so long. It was a human thing, as Derflinger had so 'helpfully' informed him, and a really annoying one at that. He had found another reason to hate sleep it seems.

Classes had been suspended for the day, which meant his master was free to sleep in however long she wanted. This came as a relief to the students due to an unexpected incident at the party: A group of students had thought it would be a good idea to start drinking copious amounts of wine to the point that most of their bodies would've been filled with the alcoholic liquid. This soon escalated to everyone in the hall pretty much deciding it was okay to cut loose every now and then and drinking as much as they could stomach.

And given what happened last night, his master apparently had the same thought. He sighed, looking around the room carefully. Everything was still a mess and his master's blanket had been taken by the mole, which likely meant his master wasn't going to see that cloth again anytime soon.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. His master's argument was still fresh in his mind. He needed to keep calm and act like nothing was wrong. If Derflinger was right then nothing was going to happen and she wouldn't remember anything.

He didn't even care about the dreams he received anymore. Rhea and the others were gone, and he was still here. He was alone now, but he was still alive, much as part of him regretted that. He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. He barely recalled his rescue of her. She didn't talk much and never explained what she was doing there to begin with. Petrus had tried to extort souls from him in exchange for their reason of being there and he had obviously refused. Her task remained a mystery to him.

"Ugh, what happened?" Louise moaned as her head continuously drummed in pain, making it hard for her to focus, "Where am I?"

She sat up slowly, trying to reign in her disgust as she felt her sweat slicked body collide against her mattress. How much had she drank last night? She swore to herself that she would only allow herself one undiluted drink and that would be the end of it. Surely she wouldn't lose her sensibilities so quickly. She was stronger than that, she was sure of it.

She recalled little. She remembered Guiche stalking her to her room for one reason or another, but she didn't remember what they were talking about. Her mind shifted to sexual intercourse before she crushed the thought. No matter how drunk she got she would never allow herself to lose her self-control like that. That and she knew that the blond fop was like many others of his gender: Interested in large slabs of fat that were bigger than their own swords. Even intoxicated he wouldn't try to hit on her or attempt fornication.

Glancing around the room proved her suspicions: It was messy, but the only other person there was her Familiar and that stupid sword of his. She stared at her unmoving Familiar briefly before she groaned. She would need to change out of this dress and fast. She dizzily stood up and picked up her gloves and discarded shoe. She would need to take a bath after this, and fast.

"Raziel, what happened last night?" She called out to the stoic Undead. She opened her closet and grabbed for one of her spare uniforms; anything would feel better than the sticky cloth she wore now, "Did I do anything odd? If I did then you should forget about it," She called out again.

"...I care little for what Master does," A hint of venom had seeped its way into his voice, but it was minute enough that the pinkette didn't notice it, "Master's friend, Guiche, was here last night and you had ordered me to see him out. Beyond that I have no opinions."

She raised an eyebrow at the stiff response. Usually he made his opinions clearer, though his lack of comment was no doubt due to their unspoken word to not talk to one another unless they needed to. She gathered up the clothes in her hand began rummaging for the lingerie. Normally she would've asked him to do this, but she needed some activity to jog her brain into motion.

"We need to talk about the trip to Albion," He didn't reply, "This is serious. Whatever issues we have with one another, we need to be able to work together. The princess is relying on us to get that letter from Prince Wales. Without it the alliance between Tristain and Germania is ruined and Princess Henrietta will be blamed for everything. She's relying on us for this very important mission and we can't let her down."

Ah, of course, just what he wanted: To serve a would be tyrant's needs. He frowned slightly and looked at the runes on his hands. These things branded him to his master and she to him. He mashed his teeth together and clenched his fist. He suddenly felt frustrated again for some reason.

"...Why would she entrust you with this?" He had blurted it out without thinking.

"Because she trusts me," Luckily she didn't seem to be offended, "I have no doubt that the Viscount himself is sufficient enough for this mission, but the Princess wants someone she explicitly trusts with the contents of the letter. And as my Familiar, it is your job to protect me." She waited a few moments more to see if he would say anything else, but silence was her only companion. He didn't want to talk.

"I'm taking a bath," He didn't bother even raising his head before she had slammed the door and left. He looked out at the window again; it was already the afternoon, though he had little way of knowing this since there was little way to tell time in this place. He supposed he could look at a clock, but the clocktowers were a hassle to tell time from.

He chewed on his lower lip before standing up. Maybe he could see Siesta.

* * *

Siesta looked out of the carriage's window, her normally smiling face now devoid of emotion. By all accounts she should have been happy: She had a job with larger pay, she could visit her family more frequently now that she was a private servant and she was even picked up in a private carriage. From all appearances she was given a job that most other commoners would kill for. And she wasn't exaggerating on the last part.

But all she felt now was fear and trepidation. Count Mott was a mysterious figure; apart from his role as a messenger of the Imperial palace, almost nothing was known about him. Many of the older nobles remarked that he was an outgoing and affable man once in his past, although his wife's death had made him more reclusive. Now no one knew of his activities other than this occasional appearance at banquets and parties.

She wasn't naive: When a lord specifically asked for a commoner of the opposite gender to be their personal servant, it most likely meant they were going to be their...mistresses. She tightened her grip on her apron. That wasn't what she was afraid of. This wasn't the first time the Count had done this: Gabrielle, Anna, Charlotte and Laura - All coworkers of hers that had been hired by the Count during his previous visits. Once they had been hired any letter they had tried to send for them remained unanswered and it was as if they had disappeared off the face of Halkeginia. Their families were worried about them.

She had barely managed to tell her own family of her circumstances before she was spirited away would worry about her no doubt, so she did her best to make her letter vague. Her parents and siblings were already working hard and there was no need for her to worry them any more than they needed. She would take anything the Count would try against her.

The carriage continued on for a few more minutes before they stopped just past the gate. Quickly she descended from the carriage, looking up at the Mansion. This would be her new 'home' for the next few years. She could see a pair of guards making their way to her; her escorts. Heh, she almost felt like a noble. She smiled wryly and steeled herself. She wouldn't be beaten here.

* * *

Raziel sighed. He couldn't see Siesta anywhere: He had checked the halls, the classrooms, and even the field behind the school. He scratched his head and decided to go to the kitchen. It was already past lunchtime, so he doubted she would still be there, but it was better than nothing. Besides, maybe it would allow him to learn more about the culture of this place. He had little care for the airs of nobility, but he did want to know how to interact.

When he had arrived at the kitchen the mood was somber. He blinked in surprise: He had expected them to be as energetic as they were last night. But now everyone was quiet, doing their best to focus on their work and nothing else. He looked around and tried to look for Marteau. He would know where Siesta was.

"Oh, Raziel, what brings you here?" The heavyset man looked up from his pot and smiled at the young Undead, "If you're looking for more meals then you've come to the right place! Come, I must-"

"Um, no thank you," He raised a hand in refusal, "I was hoping to ask you if you have seen Siesta. I was hoping to meet her," He did his best to give a 'charming' smile, although he had a sneaking suspicion that it came out as more crooked than anything else. He really couldn't smile naturally.

"Siesta...you mean you don't know?" Raziel's confused stare was all the answer he needed, "That girl- She even told us to not say anything about it and that she would tell you herself," He palmed his face and shook his head. He wasn't supposed to be the one to tell him this. Siesta had told them that she wanted to handle it herself and that everything would be alright, "Raziel...Siesta's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" He questioned. Perhaps she'd gone into the town to buy some-

"As in she's no longer employed here," He turned away from him and began to mix the stew angrily, "She's been hired by Count Mott, the Imperial Palace Messenger, as his personal servant. As of right now she's no longer an employed member of this school."

"Oh...then I suppose I will talk to her another time."

Marteau smiled bitterly. He just didn't get, "Son, you're not going to be able to talk to her again, I'm afraid," Raziel stiffened, "This has happened before. Four of our previous co-workers got hired by him. They were all nice girls, same as Siesta: Went here from countryside to support their family or other sick relatives. When Anna got hired we sent her letters, but she never replied. We even sent one of the other guys - boy was soft on her - to go to Mott's estate and he was turned away at the gates. The same thing happened when he hired Gabriella, Laura and Charlotte."

"...Is Siesta in danger?" His voice nearly shook. Siesta was the only friend he had in this place. And he hadn't even said goodbye.

"I honestly don't know," He forced a smile and turned to Raziel, "There's nothing else I can tell you about this, Raziel. We all want to help Siesta right now, but there's nothing to be done. The Count has a strong position in this land. Being the Imperial Messenger means he has free reign to do things like this and nothing we do can change that. We've tried and we've failed."

He didn't want to admit it, but those girls were likely dead. Pregnant servants were bad for a nobles reputation and there were two choices: To be sent to the nunnery where they could possibly talk...or to slit their throats and wash them down the canal where no one would find them. Mott had already taken Four personal servants and he doubted that he needed more than one. There was a reason he kept hiring more.

"Where is his estate?" Marteau frowned at the question. The look in Raziel's eye made it clear that he wasn't planning to go for a simple visit.

"Raziel-"

"Tell me," He pleaded.

He had wanted to refuse, to tell him to forget it before he hurt himself, "...Its to the east, about an hour away on foot," Raziel smiled at the answer and ran to get Derflinger. He would need all the protection that he could take. Marteau watched him blankly before turning back to the stew. The look in his eye told him that he would rather die trying than live to regret giving up.

* * *

Siesta breathed a tired gasp and wiped her wine red uniform sleeve against her forehead. Cleaning the entire room had taken her the better part of an hour and a half, but she had done it. She looked around the room with a hint of pride. She always liked cleaning; the head chef had teased her that this would make her a good wife in the future, but as of right now it was what allowed her to be a good maid.

Her introduction into the mansion was quick: She was given a uniform, told that that Count would meet with her at his leisure, and then she was told to make herself useful and do her job. She liked it; finish the job as quickly as possible. She had come here to work and to earn for her family, not to have fun. While she still felt a pang of regret leaving everyone in the academy behind, she had little choice in the matter. Her contract had been bought by the Count and that meant she now worked for him.

She'd tried to ask them about her friends, but the servants always told her to focus on her job or that they didn't recall any names. It was quite obvious to her that they were lying to her. She couldn't see even a single trace of her friends presence here. A part of her liked to think that they were released and simply found new jobs elsewhere, but the realistic part of her chided her on that.

There was only one thing left for her to clean. She turned to the center of the room and looked up at the painting. It was of a woman, possible no older than her late twenties. Her auburn hair was tied into a bun and the white dress she wore gave her the feeling of being immaculate. Siesta gaped; the portrait was easily twice her size. How would she clean this? Even standing on her tip-toes wouldn't allow her to do anything.

The sounds of the door opening interrupted her musings. She turned around and tried to hold in her shock - It was the Count. The Imperial Messenger looked around the room before his eyes set upon her. Siesta gulped, tightening her grip on her duster. It was absurd. What did she hope to accomplish? He had a wand and she had a feather duster. Unless she planned to make him sneeze to death she wasn't going to be doing much of anything.

"Ah, you are Siesta, am I correct?" She nodded meekly, "Already up at work I see. Good, good." He went closer and stood by her side, "How are you enjoying your time here so far, my dear?"

"Very honored, Count Mott," She bowed politely, "The estate is grand and all of the servants were polite. I'm glad to be here," She was good at flattery, that was one thing she was sure of.

"I'm pleased to hear that. Tell me, did you clean this painting?" He pointed at the painting of a woman. She shook her head, "Good. I'm sure the other servants forgot to tell you, but this painting is important to me," A soft smile of recollection made its way to his face, "This is my wife's portrait; the only one of its kind. She made it herself just by looking at her reflection in the mirror. It had taken her months to complete and she was so proud of herself when she finished. It...was the only one she finished before she passed away. Sickness had taken her.

Siesta looked at the Count in surprise. She couldn't see any malice in him, just a simple longing for what was lost, "I'm sorry..."

"I hung it up in this room after she died," He continued, "Sometimes I like to think that she's looking down on me, proud of all my accomplishments...although, she might just scold me instead for my wandering eyes," He chuckled and turned to face her, "Tell me, my dear. Why did you decide to work at the Academy? Not many would choose the life of a mere maid. Did you not have any other choice?"

"O-Oh, my family runs a winery in the small village of Tarbes. I'm the oldest in my family out of all my siblings and I wanted to help support my family. My father hopes to have me inherit it when I married someone- Oh, I'm sorry, that's not what you asked," She wanted to ask about her friends, but she was afraid. He acted nice now but there was no guarantee that would last if she overstepped her bounds. She would need to find some other way to discover where exactly her friends had gone.

"...You have a pure soul," Siesta blinked at the sudden comment. She'd been called a lot of things before: Hardworking, affable, daydreaming, unfocused and even good-natured. But that was new, "Oh, please excuse my ramblings," He laughed again, "Its just-"

"Milord, milord!" The door to the study burst open and an old butler rushed in, panting heavily, "Th-There's someone who wishes to see you! A-A commoner from the Academy."

The Count's smile dipped into a slight frown before he turned back to Siesta, "Forgive me, my dear, it appears I have a visitor," He stood up and grabbed his wand, "We shall continue this conversation at another time."

* * *

Mott looked at the commoner with a subtle sneer gracing his features. This was who wished to see him? He observed him carefully. Young - Unlikely to be older than his middle or late teens, although the white hair made him appear older than he was. Everything else about him was not worth enough to describe, save for one thing: The sword at his side. He raised in eyebrow in intrigue and surprise. Any commoner that drew a sword in the house of a noble could expect no mercy from the master of the house. Everybody knew this, and yet he chose to come with a weapon anyway? He inwardly chuckled. He would humor him.

"What is it you want?" He spoke out slowly. The young man tried to walk towards him before the guards at his side pushed him back roughly. Just because he was willing humor him didn't mean that he had permission to act so impertinent, "You can talk from there, commoner. Unless this is an attempt to assassinate me? In which case I regret to inform you that you're wholly unqualified. I've faced far worse than the likes of a boy with a sword."

Raziel's hand twitched towards Derflinger before he reined himself in. Derflinger had warned him on the way here that he couldn't just carve his way through to solve his problems. Killing a noble would have repercussions, and unlike those bandits he had no proof that he had even done anything wrong. Just because he wanted to see Siesta didn't mean he was the right person in this argument. He was already on shaky ground with his master and Derflinger had rightly suggested that one mistake here meant more than not seeing Siesta again.

"I...wish to see Siesta," He did his best to keep his voice polite and respectful. Mott smiled, obviously noticing his effort but mistaking it for fear, "I had heard that you hired her from the Academy."

"And so what if I did?" Mott questioned, "I had bought her contract legally and she's going to be well-paid for her work here. Why? What business is it of yours who I hire? Who is she to you that you would enter a noble's estate to audaciously?" Despite his questions, he already had a guess on what the young man wanted. This wasn't the first time someone from the academy came without the school's official sanction. When he had hired other servant's from the academy, some of their co-workers came to inquire about them. Although he had to admit it was a first time seeing someone who wasn't dressed as a servant.

"...She is my friend..." It was pathetic, but he couldn't think of any other reason.

"Ah, let me guess: You wish me to give her contract back," He stepped closer, and and this time his guards crossed their spears in front of him, "You aren't the first to ask that, believe it or not. You try to imagine me as a monster, don't you?" He smirked at him, "It makes things easier for you, to imagine me as an unrepentant despot intent on ruining the lives of young girls. Don't be coy; the others that came here had the same look about them. They blamed me for taking their co-workers from them, ignoring that I gave them a paying job for less effort. Tell me, am I sinful now for buying servants legally?"

Raziel grit his teeth and grabbed at one of the spears. It would have taken no effort to snap the metallic rod, and it would take even less effort to pick unsheathe Derflinger and stab the smiling noble over and over till his life left him. It would've been easy, but that would be admitting that he was right.

"And as much as I'd hate to disappoint you, I am no bogey man intent on ruining peoples lives," He walked over to one of the bookcases and picked up one of the books, "But I am not without kindness. You wish me to relinquish Siesta's contract? I can offer you a deal."

"A deal?" He didn't like the sounds of this.

"Yes, a simple trade to be precise," He flipped open the book and began skimming through it, "There is a particular book that I wish to acquire, but alas it has eluded me all these years. A book of great knowledge and secrets written by a great man," He walked back to Raziel and smirked, "It is currently in the hands of the Zerbst family of Germania. You claim to have come from the Academy, did you not? Then it should be no problem for you to get it. The Zerbst family's daughter is currently studying there, if I'm not mistaken. Maybe you could ask it of her."

The Count knew it was an impossible task. What mere commoner could make demands of the nobility? He resisted the urge to laugh. There was no hope for him to gain that book, not when he himself had attempted to barter for it with the family for many years now. It was to be the last of his collection, the last book he needed before he could finally stop searching.

"...The book for Siesta?" The Count's smirk disappeared. There was no hint of a joke or hesitation on him, "If I give you this book, Siesta comes back to the academy unharmed?"

Mott barely got in a nod before Raziel turned around and left through the entrance hall. He stood there, stunned for a few more moments before a wide smirk enveloped his face. This was beginning to get interesting. All those he had offered the deal to had silently refused him; no one had even made the attempt to try and gain the book in exchange for the people they claimed to care about.

Perhaps it would be different this time.

* * *

"So that's why you want this book?"

Kirche glanced at Raziel, noting with some disappointment that he didn't seem to care at all about her currently risque form of dress. She stretched her arms above her head before continuing, "So let me get this straight: The Imperial Messenger of the palace hired a maid you made friends with and now to get her back you need my family heirloom?" He nodded mutely.

She had to admit, she had gotten her hopes up somewhat. She was just relaxing in her room and he suddenly decided to barge in and tell her that he needed to talk to her. She thought she could finally talk to him about that weird magic of his, but he had immediately asked her about the book her her grandfather or great-grandfather summoned many years ago.

It sounded silly, and yet seeing him now she could tell the ridiculous story was true. She sighed and shook her head in amusement, "You do know what you're asking of me, right? That book is an ancient tome summoned by my great grandfather. Its supposed to be a good luck charm for my wedding once I graduate. Giving it away might get me in trouble," She wasn't lying. Granted she cared little if her parents scolded her for giving away the book, but she wasn't lying when she said she would be in trouble.

"Please...I know this is much to ask," Raziel knelt on the ground and bowed his head, "I fear for Siesta's life. Marteau had told me that she is not the first and that she may be in danger. I do not know what I can do to convince you, but please give me a chance...I do not want to lose another friend." He had already failed Laurentius, he had failed Solaire and he had failed Anastacia. He didn't want to add Siesta to that still growing list.

Kirche was taken aback at the gesture, "She really matters that much to you?" He nodded again, "Hold up, before we discuss this further - Does Valliere know you're doing this? Last I saw she was eating in the dining hall without you," He hesitated slightly before shaking his head in refusal. His master didn't know what he was doing and he doubted that she would've cared. He didn't want to face her right now, anyway.

"Alright, I'll make you a deal," She finally conceded, "This is a precious family heirloom, but it technically falls under my ownership since I'm the only daughter of the Zerbst family right now. While tradition dictates that its meant to be a wedding charm, I'm freely able to give it away to anyone I see fit to," She smirked, "But I will get in trouble for it, so how about a trade? I give you this book and you do a single favor for me. I won't make you do anything that will make you lose faith in yourself and the book is yours if you agree. How about it?"

Raziel mulled it over. As far as he'd seen, despite his master's hatred of her she had proven to be a good enough person who was willing to risk her life to help others. She was a child and he was an adult, regardless if they appeared the same age. She would probably make him do something that wouldn't be too hard on his sanity - After all, he'd already done a lot of things would've driven most normal people mad. He hardly thought a teenager would make him do something worse than lighting the Kiln.

"Agreed."

Kirche's smile widened and she waved her wand deftly, summoning the small book to her, "Here, we can discuss what you'll do after you get your friend back," She grabbed the book and offered it to him, "Although I'm not sure why the the Count would care so much for a book like this. No one in our family can actually read it," She shrugged, "Its written in some kind of ancient dialect or something. None of us are able to read it no matter how hard we try."

Raziel grabbed the offered book and looked at it suspiciously. He was willing to give up Siesta for this? He turned it around slowly: The cover was brown and tattered, obviously marred with age. His fingers traced along the yellowed pages. This book was obviously old, but why could he not shake the feeling that it was familiar to him somehow? Like he had seen it before in a distant memory.

He opened the book felt an ice cold chill spread through him. This wasn't tome or a novel. Kirche looked in surprise as his grip on the spine tightened, "Hey, is something wrong?"

"Where did you get this book?" She could make out the anger in his voice, "I ask again: Where did you get this book? Do you know of its contents?"

"I told you - My great-grandfather got it in a summoning ritual and none of us can read it. Why does it matter? I thought this was what you needed to get your friend back? I'm giving it to you so you can save her."

Raziel looked down at the book one last time before tossing it back to her, "I do not need it," He turned around and ran out the door. He needed to get to the estate as fast as he could. Siesta was in danger, there was no doubt in his mind right now. Kirche looked down at the book before picking it up slowly. What in the void just happened? He looked like he had seen something depraved. She didn't know how true that thought was.

It wasn't a novel, it was a journal. Research notes, illustrations of crystals, methods and processes to induce purity. The process in which how one could attempt to make firekeepers from those without the naturally built souls required so the body could survive the rampant Humanity gnawing at them. Normally only those who had a certain 'purity' of soul were capable of handling the strain, but Seath's goals for immortality stopped at no one. The Pisaca's were proof of his failed experiments and how they could turn anything monstrous.

And Count Mott was collecting these books.

* * *

Raziel smashed the guards head against the stone wall repeatedly. He had already lost consciousness after the second attack, but his building frustration had made him lose his inhibitions. "There he is!" Another guard had spotted him. He rushed over to him before slamming his fist against his stomach. The sentry felt his ribs crack at the impact and the taste of blood in his mouth before he too lost consciousness. They weren't dead, but a quick swipe of Derflinger would be quick to change that.

"Hey, partner, you sure this is a good idea?" Derf piped up from his scabbard, "I mean, you had that book you wanted, right? Just trade it for the maid and do that redhead's favor. Whatever is in that book can't be so bad that you're willing to take on a noble for it," Derf waited briefly for an answer before it became obvious he was being ignored, "You know I'm with you all the way here, partner. But are you sure this is what you want? Think about Pinky. Your master's going to get in trouble for this."

Why would she? He hadn't killed anyone yet. Despite all logic and instinct telling him to do so, he had resisted the urge to kill all of the guards. They were bruised, battered, beaten and they wouldn't be walking straight anytime soon, but they were alive. He was only going to kill one person, and his master would have to be a fool to disagree with his decision to do so.

"It is," He unsheathed Derflinger and opened the double doors leading to the great hall. It was devoid of servants and other staff and only person stood at its center: The Count himself. Raziel glared at the noble, thought he older gentleman greeted him with a welcoming smile. He had been expecting him to come back empty-handed. His confidence in being able to gain the artifact didn't guarantee that he would be any more successful than the others who came before him.

"Just like all the rest," He sighed, "I must admit that I expected you to fare better than the rest, but in the end you are incapable of doing anything but using brute-force," He pointed at Derflinger, "You drew your sword against a noble in his house. As foolish as you are, I must commend you for your bravery in doing so. Many would have turned away. Is there anything you wish to say before you leave this world?"

"I saw the book, I've read its contents" He did? Intriguing, "What interest would you have in the ramblings of a monster?"

A burst of pain greeting him was his response. Raziel's mouth opened slowly, trying to form words as he looked down at what attacked him: A crystal, sharp as any blade, had been lodged into his chest. He raised his free hand to try and grab at it before he felt his knees buckle from weakness. The pain started to spread throughout his body, the crystal doing its work and killing him from within.

The Count smirked and lowered his wand. He expected a bigger fight, "You ask me for my reasons?" He laughed, "There are many journals like the ones you came across, all detailing processes and experiments for one goal: Immortality. Imagine it - We no longer have to fear death! We live forever, not ravaged by disease or hunger! And if it takes the life of the few to benefit the many, is it not a worthy sacrifice? Their deaths will not be in vain!"

Another crystal pierced his arm. He let go of Derflinger and clutched the wound tightly, "Do you see this power? Earth, Fire, Water, Wind - None of it can compare to the power I received from studying these books. Do you not see how we could benefit from this?"

From his kneeling position, it took all of Raziel's effort to stay conscious. He was wrong. For all his research, Seath was never truly immortal. A crystal, a container holding a shard of his soul. Once that was gone he was as vulnerable to death as any other living being. Those experiments...all that suffering...they were all for naught in the end. Death would come for him just as it did everybody else. The power he received from the crystals had driven him insane, as it did Logan. It was power that no one was meant to use.

This pain...why did this seem so familiar?

**He looked down at his stomach, the pain nearly blinding his already deadened senses. He raised a decayed hand and attempted to pull out the crystal before another burst of pain forced him on his back. He forced himself to breath, though he knew that it would do little to alleviate his suffering. As easy as it was to kill those knights and sorcerers, he was still vulnerable to pain.**

**"You are...immortal?" Seath's voice reached his ears. "Something has...changed you...Manus..."**

**He forced himself to stand, ignoring the pain enveloping his entire body. He pressed both hands against the crystal before extracting it from his ravaged stomach. He had come too far to die now. He would not die here, not after his eternal damnation.**

**"Your struggles are futile..." A quick swipe of the dragons claw forced down into the ground again, "Resist all you want...you will never find what you seek...Fallen God..."**

"Lord Mott, what has happened?"

"Intriguing. Most others who suffered this attack died. And yet he's still alive. Thinking back on it, he said he read the runes and it took me years to even decipher the full letters."

"Lord Mott?"

"You, take him down into the lower levels and place him with the rest. He's no mere commoner, that much is certain."

* * *

**Bet you all thought it was a porn book, huh :p Anyway, according to the forums I frequent, the Mott arc is usually where people just stop writing altogether. Maybe I should copy their examples...I'm just kidding, please stop glaring at me,**

**Oh, and confession time again: My original plan was to give Mott a daughter who would serve as the deuteroganist of the arc. The person I was PMing rightly told me that adding an OC who would never be seen again was pointless and I just scrapped it. It'll likely shorten the next chapter, but hey, we get to Albion faster :D**

**Anyway, time to answer some reviews before moving on. **

**Mastermind - You guessed right :D I'm not deviating much from canon :(**

**Some guy - If that's a not-so-subtle suggestion to get me to write one, I'll have to pass. I can't imagine Corvo being loyal to anyone except for Emily. As this chapter shows, I can't even make someone Louise saved from eternal torment completely loyal to her.**

**Bolthole - Blaming Henrietta's not gonna fly forever :/ Mott's a product of his time: To us he's a slimeball, but in that time period he's actually the norm for his class. Hell, he's not even that bad once you get down to it - There are many much worse people in the story, and yet people love to demonize Mott like he lives to torture girls to death. That and his opinion doesn't matter; Louise is completely loyal to Henrietta, and that means he's loyal by proxy since he's her Familiar.  
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**Demon of Fate - Thank you :) I know its bad habits to reply to a review with no questions, but I want to say that everyone's continued reading is what pushes me to write the next chapter. I may not have as much reviews as everyone else, but it doesn't really matter to me when I have readers who read the next chapter I put out. I make mistakes, but hopefully I continue to improve.  
**

**Well, that's all for now. After this I'm taking a break. Two chapters in just a few days is good enough for the advanced authors, but not for me. See you guys next week or so. Maybe more. I have to update my other fics and make that Karin/Marriane story. **


	17. Depths of Depravity

**Well, my first M rated chapter :) Hopefully I can keep up my writing and you guys keep reading. The Albion arc is where some additions start happening. Anyway, I spent the past week thinking up ideas for the Karin/Marianne story. I'll go back to that once this chapter ends.**

**Now this chapter might be a bit confusing to some people. We're going to be shifting between the past and present segments without any borders, so I'll just bold the past segments so you can differentiate it.I just want to finish this chapter quick so we can get to the Albion arc. I've been dragging out the Fouquet and Mott arcs as it is.  
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**One last note for the flashback chapters: I'm not even gonna bother with trying to write the dialogue in old English - Its annoying and makes it hard to flow. Just assume that translation convention is at work and that the old English is being translated to modern English. If I try, I'll just make some really embarrassing mistakes. **

**Anyway, can anybody tell me if this chapter can get away with a T rating? When you finish reading, mention it in the review. **

* * *

Pain was the first thing to greet Raziel he returned to consciousness. This was quickly followed by darkness and the sounds of sobbing. Trying to ignore the pain in his mid-section, he placed both hands on the cold stone floor and forced himself to stand. He needed to get out of here now, and fast. Siesta was still up there and that crazed Count was trying to use her as fuel for his experiments.

Another spasm of pain sent him crashing down into the floor. Mimicking a ragged breath, he rolled to the side and threw a weary gaze down at his chest. His tunic had been torn, the leather jacket and the white cloth having a large hole in its mid-section. He placed a shaking hand back at where the crystal had impaled him and sucked in a breath of pain. It still hurt, and he could see the pale skin dotted with jagged marks and scratches from where the crystal had entered. Although his human form was mostly a hallucination, there were still other things capable of disrupting the image.

Crystals were one of them. He closed his eyes and tried to stop himself from breathing; he had done it out of habit since he saw no harm in it, but every breath he took now sent worsening gasps of pain to course through him. Crystals were one of the few things that could truly hurt the Undead considerably. Oh sure, they fell to swords and sorcery, but a quick trip to the bonfire usually fixed that. Crystals affected them far more than the worst spells; it disrupted the darksigns hold on their body and made them feel true pain. Worse than any broken bone or any torn skin.

He looked down at his right arm before forcing himself to move it as well. He suppressed another cry as the impaled wound became agitated. He hated crystal sorcery, he really did. Seath and his experiments caused nothing but suffering. And for what? Because he was selfish and wanted to understand why he wasn't the same as all the other dragons. That Count was making a mistake, and they would all pay the price.

"Hey, he's alive," A voice to his right called out. Raziel looked at the direction of the voice, though he couldn't make out much through the darkness, "I'm surprised the Count left you alive. Most of the men he puts in here are changed before they even wake up."

Attempting - and actually succeeding - to stand again, he placed both hands against the rough stone wall and leaned into it as he stood up on wobbly legs: Great, he could at least stand now. Taking a step further, he began to walk towards where he had heard the voice. It didn't take a genius to realize that he was in a cell, and someone else talking meant he wasn't alone. Talking with anyone would help his situation right now.

**He placed a hand against the** **rusted metal of the cage. The damnable lizard had placed him here after he had lost consciousness; no doubt intending to do some kind of experiment on him. He looked around the cell he had been placed in: It was wide, no doubt intended to hold multiple captives, but right now he was its only denizen. **

**A few steps to his left he could see a dead body, its skin rotted with exposed crystals. He placed hand on it and raised a deformed eyebrow curiously - Its skin was hard and the crystal refused to budge. It was as if the crystal had merged with its body. He grabbed one of its thin hands and looked down at the remains of peach colored skin. This thing used to be a human, although now it was just skeleton infused with crystal.**

**Was that the fate that awaited him? He looked down at his skeletal hands. He doubted that the lizard could do much to worsen his condition, although it did seem to know him. What did that thing call him again? ...Manus, if he was remembering correctly. The name was unclear to him, and he doubted that the overgrown lizard truly knew his name.**

**But it was a name, which was one of the things he was sorely lacking right now. It would do till he recovered his memories.**

**Manus placed a hand against the gate once again before shaking it roughly. This thing was rotted and could easily be removed. No doubt the monster was used to the idea of experimenting on afraid and helpless victims. He was not going to be the same. Clenching a hand against the metal, he wasn't even surprised as he saw it bend against his palm. Seath may have been stronger than him, but his new body had its share of benefits.**

**He needed answers. That thing had called him a Fallen God, and he had no idea why. Although he doubted that the monster would talk, so killing him was likely the course of action he would need to take.**

"I'm surprised you're still alive."

Raziel stared at the person talking to him. It was a girl, likely no older than his new form or Siesta. She wasn't alone; he could see many of them, girls ranging from children to their early adulthood. All female, as expected. Firekeepers were traditionally women and Seath's notes would no doubt indicate that he chose women as test subjects. Gwyenevere's handmaiden's were his most frequent targets. After all, who could be considered more pure than maidens who served than the Goddess of Fertility.

He could see the runes on his left hand glowing, the memories filtering into his mind, but he chose to ignore it. He needed to save Siesta, "What is this place? Who are you?" He tried to ignore the sobbing of the children. It may have been cold, but he was far too used to the depravity both man and monster were capable of to honestly act surprised at every tragedy that he saw. He was so used to it that it didn't matter anymore. He needed to focus.

"What do you think? We're the people Count Mott hired," The girl, a young lass with long dark brown hair and eyes, replied, "All of us are servants that he hired from places he visited. He keeps telling us that we're all special and that only people with our 'purity' could fit with his grand plan," She sneered at him, "And then he places us all in here and takes one of us every few days. All the guards and the other servants know about us, but they don't want to do anything. They think its alright as long as they turn a blind eye."

His gaze turned to the girls behind her. They were all sickly, and he could tell by their patchwork clothing that they had been here for a while now. The older females were comforting the children, hugging them tightly and telling them everything would be alright. He noted grimly that some of the older ones had blood at the bottom of their robes and that they were all sitting down.

Just like Anastacia.

"I see..." He turned to look at the cell around him. His eyes had finally gotten used to the darkness and he found the large cell he had been placed into was weirdly empty; no bodies, no items...and no Deflinger. He sighed. He should have expected that, of course. Only a fool would have placed the sword next to him so he could use it when he woke up. He dully noted that that there also wasn't a guard that conveniently had his back turned towards him. The Count apparently didn't take everything he knew from Seath to heart.

"The bigger question is why you're here," She pointed at him, "Most males here takes don't even get placed into cells - Usually they're turned into those monsters that we see from time to time," Monsters? How much of Seath's notes did that mad aristocrat get his hands on? "You've been asleep there for a couple of hours now. Is there a reason that you're getting special treatment?"

"I have some idea as to why," He turned and walked to the gate of the cell. It was sturdy, and the metal was still relatively new. He traced a hand against the framework; the metal was too thick to melt through, so Pyromancy was already out. The only other option would be to force it down with brute force, and that would no doubt attract the attention of anyone passing by.

Oh well, it wasn't like he wasn't going to kill everyone that stood in his way to the Count. May as well start early.

"Hey, what are you doing?" His companion cringed as he slammed audibly against the metal door, "Hey, if you're trying to escape then you might as well give it up. The Count made sure to lock the doors and fortify the metal in the door. No normal human can break down those doors," Well it was a good thing he wasn't a normal human then. He smashed against the door again, and this time he felt the metal bend outwards. He was getting closer to breaking it down.

"...Why are you even here, anyway?" She didn't bother warning him again. If he wanted to dislocate his shoulder, then that was fine with her. She got tired to of seeing people try to kill themselves in order to escape. Maybe he would learn a lesson, "You're the first male we've seen in a long time. Most of the others were either killed or turned to sentries. So why are you here?"

"I am trying to help my friend," Another crash and another half an inch of movement. Things were improving, at least, although his chest wound was getting agitated again, "Siesta was taken by the Count and the head chef told me that she might have been in danger. I was willing to trade a book for her, but the contents are too dangerous to give. The Count is making a mistake." One that would cost him his life.

"Siesta? Wait, you came from the Magic Academy?" He nodded briefly before kicking against the door. Almost done, "So Siesta's here too, huh," She frowned, "Me, Anna, Charlotte and Laura were the last four people he took. I guess it shouldn't surprise me that he took Siesta too: He's looking for people he thinks are 'pure', after all. Anyone who's working for their family could be called that.

"I am almost done," He stretched his arm lightly before punching the heavy metal. Just one more push would be enough, "Can all of you walk?" He didn't want to leave them here. He couldn't escort them out, but he could give them a chance to escape.

"What's the point?" She replied, "Half of us are crippled and we can't escape even if we tried. Even if you break that door down, then what? There are still monsters roaming around the hallways and there are also guards on the actual mansion upstairs. We're not going to get out of here. Or are you telling me that you plan to kill every monster and guard between us and the exit?"

"Yes," With one last push, the door crashed to the ground loudly.

**Manus stumbled onto the spiral stairways edge, laughing slightly at the sound of the crashing of the rusted metal door behind him. He didn't know much about Seath right now, but anyone foolish enough to place him in a cell with no other restrictions and bindings certainly didn't deserve his respect. He pushed himself off the stairway and briefly looked around: The tower around him was more malevolent than the architecture from earlier, and he could see multiple cells both above and below him. He wasn't the only one here.**

**He would need to make his way down. He looked down at the cells below him and scowled at their inhabitants: Men and women of varying ages, all human. He had to find a way to release them. He wouldn't go out of his way to protect them, but they deserved just as much as a chance as he did. The monstrous lizard didn't deserve to have his ambitions realized.**

**A brief clicking snapped him out of his reverie. He looked down and saw a humanoid snake hybrid coming up the stairs quickly, flailing a large broadsword around with obvious violent intent. He clenched both his hands into fists quickly before making charging at it. This thing wouldn't survive their encounter.  
**

"Its already dead!" Raziel blinked and looked down at his hands. They were covered in a dark green liquid that smelled repugnant. He knew what it was: The blood of a snake-man. The smell and texture of the blood was too familiar to him.

He could make out a body beneath him, although identifying it accurately would be difficult. He kneeled down and ran a hand through its contents. Calling it mangled would have been an insult - There was barely any trace of the body that once was. He rummaged through the open stomach before placing its against his nose. The blood smelled odd. He rummaged again before pulling out one of its destroyed intestines and placing it against his nostrils again. He could smell feel traces of Humanity beneath all the blood. What were these things being fed?

"Hey, stop doing that!" She called out, "You're scaring the kids! Stop it!"

Raziel stared at her blankly before tossing the organ back, "As you wish," He tended to forget that people weren't used to acts of violence and observation around here. He shook his head and began to examine the corpse's pouch. The snakes from the archives and and Sen's fortress were armored, meaning they were hard to kill without weapons. By contrast, these things wore patchwork cloth that could barely considered clothes.

It was actually reminiscent of the clothes the females wore. He looked back at the girls tattered brown robe before examining it; same material and mostly the same length. But they were obviously male: Seath's experiments were divided between two sections - Females were experiment on in an attempt to turn into Firekeepers while males were turned into mindless snake-men to serve as Seath's guard. He smiled slightly when he felt something metallic touching against his skin; the key. He wiped it against the wall before nodding. This was their way out.

He felt no guilt killing the transformed monstrosity: All of the test subjects lost control of their minds, being forced to watch as their malformed body did their masters bidding. Killing them would be a mercy.

"I found the key." He called out to them.

"I can see that," He rolled her eyes at her biting remark. No doubt she felt no need to be polite considering her experiences, "But we're not going to be able to get out of here with all those sentries and the guards up above. Emilia and the others are...incapable of walking," Why did she not just say they had their legs cut off? He wouldn't have minded, "And some of the kids are still too scared of...well, I'm not going to lie: You were kind of scary right there. I can understand being mad, but did you really have to disembowel that guy? I'm pretty sure he died after you snapped his jaw open."

Raziel said nothing, although he did observe the corpse one last time. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing - His memories had overtaken him briefly and he found himself losing focus on reality. When he had regained his senses it was already dead...and apparently he had ravaged it with his bare hands. Great, just what he needed to keep his sanity in check.

"I cannot wait for you," He finally commented, "I have to get upstairs before Siesta...I have to get upstairs," He wouldn't think about it. He wouldn't imagine Siesta caged in a stone prison, her legs chopped off and her tongue taken from her- Damn it, he was thinking of it. Alright, he needed to think pleasant thoughts...like turning the Count's face into a pile of mush that it would be indistinguishable from a dung pie. Yes, that was calming and serene.

"Do you even know the way up from there?" Silence was his reply, "Look, Siesta's my friend and I want you to save her, but are you honestly telling me you're planning to cut through all the monsters and the guards, not to mention the Count himself?" He nodded blankly, "...You're insane, aren't you?" She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Well, if you want to try and get up there without any weapons, I'm not going to stop you. Just a word of advice: The guards said that the torches are used to mark the paths that aren't dead ends. Keep following them if you want to avoid being trapped."

"Thank you," He observed his arms quickly before ripping off the cloth's sleeves reaching up to his shoulders. He needed all the movement he could and the snake-men's blood was slightly corrosive. His dead skin likely wouldn't be affected, but the clothes would be more of a hindrance than they were worth given the situation. He had a feeling he would be using his hands a lot.

"Hey...save Siesta, alright? And tell her Gabrielle and the others want to see her again."

"...Understood," He nodded at her one last time before walking towards the next corridor.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am, Valliere!" Louise grimaced as Kirche confirmed her suspicions, "Razi came into my room and started asking about a book he wanted to trade with Count Mott in exchange for that servant girl. Then he starts reading the book and the next thing I know he's telling me he doesn't need it. I think he's planning to take that maid back by force."

"That idiot!" Louise's grip on her wand shook. When she had seen that her Familiar was gone, she actually gave him the benefit of the doubt and slept before he returned - He thought that he wouldn't do anything too stupid so close to the day they would leave for Albion. But apparently she was wrong, and she was going to murder her Familiar when she caught him again.

"Where are we going?" She suddenly called out. She thought that they would go to the stables - Kirche for one reason or another insisting on going with her - but right now they were actually ascending the stairway of the tower.

"We're going to see Tabitha," Kirche called back to her, "It takes an hour to get to the Count's castle by foot and he left nearly three hours ago. Going there via Sylphid is faster and will save us more trouble."

"Maybe you should have told me sooner then," She accused lightly.

"Hey, don't blame this on me," Kirche snapped back quickly, "You were the one who was supposed to watch over your Familiar, not me. Where were you anyway? I looked for you for a while and you weren't in the dorm, the bathhouse, or the dining hall."

"...Its none of your business," She pushed past Kirche and started to run up the last few steps. She had gotten the additional details from a messenger owl about their trip to Albion: The Reconquista and the Royalists had stopped their open attack and the latter had officially retreated to their castle for the time being. They would leave in three days - More than enough time for her to prepare herself for the task. She had locked herself in the southern storeroom. It was the only way she could write the response without fear of anyone intruding.

She was starting to regret doing it now.

Inside her room, Tabitha looked down at the letter in her hands. It was obvious what it was: A new mission. Her fingers traced along the envelopes edges before she placed it on the table. Odd, there were no hints of poisons - magical or otherwise - on the paper. Isabella, her 'beloved' cousin, was always quick to try and poison her. She never fell for it, of course; the attempts were always so transparent. That could only mean this mission didn't come from her.

She stared at the paper blankly before opening it slowly. The handwriting...she recognized it. Her lips pursed and a barely noticeable twitch shook her pointer finger. That damned man, he always wrote his missions for her personally. He must have gotten some form of twisted enjoyment with the knowledge that he was writing out attempted death sentences for his niece.

Her eyes scanned over the letters contents before she placed it against the lamp's fire: No need to keep it intact where everybody could read it. With that done, she opened her room's window before jumping out, calling for her Familiar in the process. She had received her orders - Meet her contact in the Tristain capital, where he would introduce her to her new partner for the job.

Another mission, another day her mother got to live.

* * *

**Manus twisted the hybrid's neck painfully, earning an audible scream in response. Following up, he grabbed the creature's before pushing them in the opposite direction. He flinched as the corrosive blood hit against his skin, although it didn't actually hurt. He waited till the creature stopped twitching before opening his 'mouth' and absorbing its power. **

**This was the tenth creature he had killed, and it only ever got easier. Every soul he took, every life he ended healed him of his injuries and made him stronger. The wraith looked down at where the creature once was: No trace of the body or their equipment. Sighing, he grabbed the lever it was guarding before pushing it to the opposite side.  
**

**A large blare of sound greeted his ears. He looked down at the floors below and 'smiled' (as much as he could given his condition) at the sight of the doors opening. The denizens of the cells looked up in disbelief, unsure of what was happening. They had been freed? How? They looked at where the lever was and found no one. **

Raziel jumped onto the snake-man's back before he twisted its neck quickly. The crack of its neck snapping spread throughout the chamber briefly before he felt it go limp in his arms. Shaking his head, he released his grip on the monster before running to the next shadowed corner. Already he could hear footsteps; likely other monsters who had heard his brief struggle.

Their footsteps neared. Two of them, and no one else. He looked at their deformed faces and raised an eyebrow curiously - Their eyes had no irises, only the sickly whites of their eyes. He watched as the pair sniffed the air and slithered their tongue out of their scaly mouths. His eyes widened in realization: These monsters were blind. Deciding to test his theory, he grabbed for a loose stone and chucked it against the opposite wall.

The pair's reaction was instant. They charged at the stone, clawed hands flailing wildly at where they thought the threat originated. He gave a slight smirk: Echolocation. The demented snakes were blind and unable to see through the dark, relying only on their hearing. He moved to the side cautiously, making sure to keep his footsteps level. The amount of light he had on him didn't matter, but the slightest misstep meant that they would home in on his location.

He grabbed another stone before chucking it at his previous position. This time only one of the snakes walked over to it, its 'partner' still content with trying to search the ground at where he had thrown his first stone. Good, that meant he could take them out one at a time. Grabbing the torch sitting on the wall, he stalked closer to the man-serpent.

**Manus grunted as the large creature fell on top of him. Sighing, he placed both hands against the monsters belly before pushing it away from him. **

**That was the twenty-fourth one. He fed quickly before he looked up the wall in irritation: The door out had been sealed, no doubt in response to his freeing of the prisoners. He placed a hand against the spiked iron. Unlike the door to his cell, the large courtyard gate was strong and obviously well cared for. He rocked it lightly before giving up. There was no way out for him this way.**

**His eyes caught sight of the escaping forms of the prisoners. Based on his memories of this place, they were actually running towards the exit. He breathed a sigh of relief; at least they would gain the chance to get away. He turned to the opposite wall and sighed again. The door was at the top and the ladder leading up to it had been broken. He would need to go further in if he wanted to find the scaly monster again.**

**He supposed it made sense: The only way further in was through a path no normal humans could take: The Channelers could transport themselves across large distances and had no need for stairs while Seath himself was unlikely to pass through here. Manus traced a metallic hand against the wall carefully. The surface was rough enough that grabbing on was a possibility...**

**He nodded to himself before jumping up against the wall, "...It worked," He suppressed a laugh as his claw-like hands grabbed onto the rough wall. Removing his right hand carefully, he raised it above his head and pulled himself up. He had found a way to climb, as annoying as it was, "...That Godless swine is going to pay for this..."**

Raziel mimicked a pant as the last of the man-serpent's life left its body. Fighting the first had proved easy, but the second one had managed to smash him against the wall before he managed to gouge its eyes out. He scowled and wiped greenish blood against the wall. It wasn't dangerous to him, but the liquid still caused irritation in his skin.

He needed to find a way to confuse them. These creatures moved by echolocation, but the second beast had still managed to differentiate him from its brethren despite their close proximity. He knelt down and observed the snake carefully - He had taken to snapping their jaws and necks in order to kill them quickly. He raised a hand and placed it against its mouth, taking some of its blood before he sniffed it again. There was no doubt about it; these creatures had Humanity in them.

Now the question would be whether it was their own Humanity before they were turned...or had they gorged on their fellow man after the change took hold of them. He scrunched his nose in disgust. The smell was truly overpowering, it didn't surprise him that- Of course! He used both hands to grab for more of the snake's dripping blood. Just because they had lost their sight and relied on their hearing didn't mean that they had lost their sense of smell. The blood of the creatures was obviously recognizable and they used it to tell the difference they each had.

He shivered slightly as he smeared the blood against his clothes. Already he could feel the acid-like liquid beginning to chew though his clothing and irritate his skin. Scowling, he tore open the snake's stomach before grabbing at another one of its intestines. He needed to mask his scent, and that meant smearing whatever amount he needed against his clothes.

Frowning slightly, he raised up the elongated organ before smearing it against his face and hair. He felt little worry of his skin and hair dissolving; it was an illusion anyway, so even if he felt the pain it would never actually show. Even if his face had gotten torn off, it would never show...unless he was dealing with Pyromancy or Crystals. Magic had a bad habit of disrupting the illusions the Undead used to disguise themselves.

He continued to apply it to himself a few more times, making sure to avoid his legs and lower body as he was doing it: He needed to avoid adding too much and destroying his clothes completely. He wasn't one of the deprived and he didn't fancy trying to fight the snake men while wearing absolutely nothing. Even the smallest cloth helped ease his paranoia.

**Manus cursed under his breath as he finally reached the top of the long gap. It had taken him a good long while to reach the top and he had been expecting to get attacked and pushed down the second he accomplished his goal. Without wasting another moment, he crouched down and began to walk quietly down the halls. He could hear no footsteps, no clinking of armor. He peered around the corner of the hall cautiously and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Not a single soul in the entire area.  
**

**What was this place? He stood up from his crouching position and stalked forward slowly. He had expected a few sentries or Channelers, or maybe even an armored boar of some kind, but the barren space caused him no end of paranoia. He looked at the walls; covered in crystal and no traces of cells or books. He had likely gone deeper into the Archives, but to what point?**

**"Milord..." Seath. His hands shook in anger before he forced himself to calm. Seath had proven to be stronger than him, so he needed to act with intelligence. A head on assault would do little, "You do me great honor...choosing me for this sacred role..."**

**Manus crouched against the doorway before peeking into the large room. It was a library - He marveled briefly at the large bookcases that dotted the entire area. He could see books, numbering in the hundreds if not the thousands. His eyes circled over the area again; no one there save for two figures. His grip on the large entryway tightened in barely contained anger. He recognized them.**

Raziel looked up at the wooden door warily. After multiple twists and turns against the stone tunnels, he actually found a hallway devoid of any creatures or mutants. But was this what awaited him? He touched the front of it gently. He had expected a giant monster, or even a cage filled with multiple man-serpent's and Pisaca. This door...it looked like none of those things. Too flimsy and simple.

Hesitating for just a moment, he raised his hand and pushed the door open.

* * *

Louise tightened the dark cloak around her as she spurred her horse forward, "I'm going to kill him!" The horse, seeming to sense her frustration, neighed and galloped against the muddy road faster. Rain made it harder to ride on horseback, but the horses from the academy were trained that they could gallop through a burning forest without any hesitation.

"That's assuming that darling's still alive," Kirche noted grimly, spurring her horse to catch up the tiny pinkette, "He had a sword with him, and you know what happens to a commoner who raises a sword against a noble at their house," Louise didn't reply, "I know he has magic, but is that enough? I heard that the Imperial Messenger is a triangle class fire Mage. As good as he is, most commoners can't fight against Mages without guns or surprise helping them."

"Oh trust me, if there's one thing I know its that he's not going to die easily, " She grit her teeth and stifled a yell as a raindrop hit against her eye. Her Familiar was going to get into so much trouble that he was going to _**wish** _he was dead by the time she had finished with him. She had tried to be a patient master, only yelling at him when she disobeyed his orders and acted moronic. She'd even ignored using the whip entirely since she still had a speck of mercy on her. Now she was starting to realize that it was a mistake.

Tabitha wasn't in her room when they had checked, so the pair were forced to get two horses from the stables in order to make it all the way to the Count's estate with any hope of still seeing him alive. Louise looked down at the muddy path and took deep, calming breaths. She should have been preparing for the sacred mission the princess had given her, but instead she had to prevent her Familiar from getting himself killed.

"So how do you plan to explain what happened to the Count?" Kirche asked.

"I'll make up something about my Familiar being brain-damaged - its not too hard to believe - and...then I'll ask my family for an allowance to pay for any damages that might have been caused," She shuddered at the second part. She certainly wasn't looking forward to explaining to her father, mother and (worst of all) Eleanore about why her Familiar rampaged on an estate without her consent.

Kirche looked at Louise and sighed. While she could understand the value of placing your friends above rules and traditions, she had a feeling Raziel had bitten off more than he could chew. The actions of the Familiar were considered the actions of their master, and Raziel's actions would be attributed to Louise, if not the Valliere family as a whole. She had heard of families disowning their children for a sin just to keep their reputation from plummeting even slightly. She hoped Louise wouldn't garner that same fate; she teased and made her life unbearable at times, but even she wouldn't wish disowning on anyone.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

* * *

_'What is this place' _Raziel observed the area carefully. It was different from the stone tunnels and metallic prisons, more...serene. His eyes scanned over the contents: The room was somewhat, about the same size as the cell next to where he was placed, and filled to the brim with multiple objects. Unlike the other places he had recently been to, this place was completely devoid of people save for himself. He could make out multiple books and other artifacts that held no value to him, save for one thing in the center of the room.

Was that...? His legs unconsciously moved towards the familiar object. He could feel the power emanating from the object. He crouched down and reached out a blood covered hand, recognizing the object immediately: The sword stabbed into the ground, its metal corroded by crimson flame. His fingers made contact with the blade, and he felt no pain from the contact; only relief, and a sense of comfort.

He knew what it was.

"...Bonfire..." He laughed, not being able help himself. No Undead his rotted arse! Unless he was hallucinating, this was a bonfire right here. Now he just needed to-

"Partner, is that you?" Derf called out, "Damn, it is you! I thought you were dead for a second there!" He laughed, "I knew that weird magic wouldn't be enough to kill you! Hey, pick me up why don't you? This guy's starting to piss me off already with his crystal nonsense."

Raziel blinked and turned to where Derf's voice had come from, "Over here!" The rusted sword called out, leaning against an ornate wooden trunk, "Geez, partner, you look like shit!" He rolled his eyes in annoyance; a nice way to greet his wielder after barely surviving, "Hey, so you mind telling me why you're covered in crap? No offense, but I don't think it fits you. Good thing I can't smell anything."

"It is nice to see you as well," He bit back sarcastically, "Have you any idea where we are?"

"Of course I do, partner," Derf replied with a tone of haughtiness, "After that guy knocked you out, he placed me in here; apparently this place is kind of like a vault where he puts stuff in that he wants to check again later," Of course he did... "Anyway, the stairs going up to the mansion's just ahead of you. Dunno why, but he thought it was a good idea to place his vault in front of the tunnels where you just came from. Don't see the logic in that."

The reasoning was simple enough: Provide easy access to his test subjects. The man-serpent's were likely loyal enough to him and his guards - a side effect of the experimentation making them loyal to their masters and whoever their masters pointed at - that they didn't worry about being attacked. That meant anyone who tried to escape would have to go through both the monsters guarding the halls and the guards stationed up above. He was careful not to leave any back way or secret entrance open in case anyone tried to escape.

It was a good thing he had killed all of them, "Derflinger, we need to get back above."

"Think I don't know that?" He answered, "Anyway, you might want to pick up this guy next to me. He's kinda annoying with the 'Crystals are better than metal' crap he keeps spewing, but he's strong."

Raziel looked next to Derflinger and raised an eyebrow curiously: A crystal straight sword. He picked it up and held it against the lamp's light, marveling at its crystalline make. Crystal weapons were the strongest of their kind...and yet they were also impractical because they couldn't be repaired. He frowned slightly - There was no way for him to keep using this even if he wanted to.

"I know you can't hear him right now, but he's bragging about how much better he is than every other sword," Derf cut in. Raziel threw him a disbelieving look, "No, I'm being serious here! I can understands sword and what they say- Hey, you cocky bastard, who are you calling a piece of rusted junk!? Just because I'm old doesn't mean I'm any weaker than you or your fancy crystals!"

Raziel sighed and fastened Derflinger's sheath around his back, making sure to keep the Crystal sword in his left hand. He wasn't ambidextrous, but the runes glowing in his hand reminded him that the old limitations he once had didn't exactly apply to him anymore. The box they were leaning against had garnered his attention. He could make out the obscure markings.

"Bottomless box..." He didn't even try to question how his box had gotten here, of all places. Perhaps he could grab a couple of armors and some souls from-

...

...

...

That...that monster! He grabbed for the bottom of the trunk and searched frantically. All his armors, weapons and leftover souls...gone! He hands clenched against the trunk's side. He was going to kill him quickly and get Siesta out...but not now. He was going to kill him slowly and painfully, make him wish for death...and then he would revive at this bonfire and he would kill him again!

Wait. He tilted his head down and observed the side of the box - Just barely, he could make out a scratch shaped in the number "I". He sighed in relief; he was still safe. He had more than one bottomless box; one might question the logic of keeping more than one bottomless box, but his past self apparently wanted to keep organized: "I" contained spare armors and weapons he found no use for; "II" contained most of his leftover souls; "III" contained some of his stronger weapons and armor; and "IV" held the spirits of the strongest monsters he had killed.

Now the question was how Mott had taken it. Last he had checked, he had left all four boxes in front of the Lordvessel and taken only the essentials that he needed in order to fight Gwyn. How had it left the Lordvessel and made its way here?

...He shook his head and sighed; he needed to focus. He stood up from his kneeling position and began to make his way to the bonfire. Once he got healed, he would be able to fight against the Count easier. With that thought in mind, he sat down in front of the burning sword and lent a part of his flame to it. It was a process that most Undead were instinctively aware of.

As soon as the fire bathed him, he felt all pain disappear and the blood smeared around his body evaporate in a hist of smoke. He noted with some slight relief that the clothes he wore were mostly intact, although he spent a few souls repairing them just in case. Cloth and other light armor could be repaired directly with souls while metals and leathers needed a blacksmithing kit. At least he looked a bit more presentable now.

"Ngghhh," Raziel turned around and raised his sword. He thought he was the only one here, but upon closer inspection he could make out a moving figure lying prone on the ground. He stood up and warily made his way to the squirming body, making sure to keep both hands prepared in case of possible attack. He couldn't see their appearance - their entire body being covered by a large piece of tattered cloth - but he couldn't stop the feeling of dread from encompassing him as he got closer.

Steeling himself, he grabbed the cloth and tore it away roughly, "...Ugh," He closed his eyes and turned away at the sight. How could he have forgotten? Bonfires needed Firekeepers in order to be made. And if one couldn't find a Firekeeper who had the perfect soul, why not make your own? Insert Humanity into a female and hope that their soul was 'pure' enough to handle the strain. If they could, then they were only half-deformed.

"...Pisaca," He observed the figure closely. The form was still humanoid, but under her torn cloth he could make out scaly skin - She was halfway finished through the process. He grabbed her face gently and made her face him. An blank right eye turned to look at him, the left side of her face already deformed with with bloated blue skin and tentacles.

"Aaahh..." She opened her mouth, and a spiky blue appendage in lieu of a tongue weakly tried to grasp at him. He didn't even try to back away to avoid it, instead focusing the area of her legs. He grabbed the cloth before raising it away from her - As expected, her legs had been cut off. He grimaced as he saw the traces of dry blood and exposed bone. How could she have survived this long? Someone had to have come down here to heal her every day to make sure she didn't die. Looking closer, he could see traces of old food around the area where her mouth was. So she was being fed and healed.

It was a ritualistic process - Cut of the legs so they could not escape their destiny, and cut off their tongue if they dared to complain about their role. Anastacia had suffered under the same fate, and now so too did she. He could barely even see her human traits; all he could distinctly make out were the remains of red hair. She was too far gone to save.

He stood up again and made his way to the bonfire. He had to make this quick: Closing his eyes, he focused on the souls he had taken since his time here. Souls were used by the Undead in order to augment themselves. He hadn't taken much souls in the short time that he he had been here, but it would be enough to empower himself for a bit. Just enough to kill him.

And of course he had no Estus Flasks on him. He sighed - The flask had been destroyed by Gwyn during their final engagement and he still couldn't manage to find a replacement.

He waited till the last drop of soul energy had been spent before making his way back to her. She looked at him again, mouth moving and muttering something he couldn't make out. He took one last look at the bonfire before placing the crystal sword against her neck. One slash and she would be dead, and he would be deprived of a bonfire and source of power.

"Why do you fight for her? Do you not see how she wished to die? How death is much more merciful than an eternity in that prison?" Lautrec's words echoed at him. His grip on the sword shook and he looked away, but his hands remained firm. In one breath, he brought the sword across the remains of her neck and waited as the life left her body.

"...Thank you..."

He refused to look at her, even as he felt her energy entering his body. She was dead...and so was Mott.

* * *

The Count smiled, staring at Siesta's unconscious form. She had tried to resist earlier, claiming that she had seen him attack her friend. How absurd: The Commoner had drawn a sword and attacked his guards. He was simply defending himself against one who was blind to the sacrifices they all had to make. Yes, he had caused pain and suffering, but what of the results? All of them could be stronger than even the mightiest Elf.

His right hand caressed her face gently. Many thought that he took females in order to rape them and then kill them after they showed signs of bearing his child. Hah, feeble minded fools. Raping them posed the danger of damaging any purity they had, not mention that it was pointless. He admired their forms, their nubile bodies so replete with untapped potential, but that was all. He disliked cruelty purely for the sake of it. He did things with a purpose.

His smile vanished as he heard the sounds of crashing and screams. Turning around, he did his best to keep his surprise hidden as he saw one of his guards tossed bodily through his study's entryway, his entire body bleeding profusely from the wounds inflicted upon his body. Following behind him, Mott saw the commoner from before stalk into the room slowly.

"Let Siesta go..."

**"Milord...I am honored that you would choose me for this sacred task..." Manus crouched and made sure to keep his footsteps quiet. He needed to be careful, "I...trust that...this comes with good reason?"**

**"Of course," The voice that replied was familiar, although he couldn't place it exactly where. He looked at its source and found an old man in gleaming golden armor, his entire body surrounded by a fierce light: It was an illusion. He wasn't really there. He observed him carefully - He was tall, easily taller than he was, but not larger than the white dragon. On his back he could see a fiery greatsword, its entire body covered by a fierce flame. Despite his advanced age, Manus could tell that he had a power that no one else possessed.**

**He saw Seath hold something in his clawed hands: A soul of power in the shape of a flame. Manus felt a bout of irritation hit him at the sight of the bright power - He hated it, and yet he did not understand why.**

**"I am entrusting to you, one of my most loyal subjects, with the the task of overseeing that which is most important to this land," The old man called out again before the shimmering form of the illusion faded slightly, "Time grows short, as does my power. You must keep it safe, else this land will fall into darkness and corruption. The darkness surrounds us."**

**The figure vanished. Manus watched Seath closely and he could have sworn that the lizard was smiling as he ate the soul: It wouldn't destroy it, but rather merge it with Seath himself till its owner decided to reclaim it from him. In the meantime, he was willing**

**But it gave him a chance. He clenched his fist and watched as darkness consumed his rotted flesh. Seath may have gotten stronger from the power, but he had also gained its vulnerabilities. Light and Dark could never co-exist: One always tried to destroy the other. The strength he had manifested came from the dark and the abyss that had been his prison.**

**And it would be Seath's undoing. He stepped out of the shadow's embrace and glared at the dragon as he turned around, watching its hate-filled eyes looking at him in slight disbelief. He hadn't expected him to escape, that much he could tell. The power granted to him by the Soul made him think he was invulnerable.**

** He was wrong.**

**"Do you so wish for death...Manus?"**

"Do you so wish for death, Commoner?" Raziel raised up the crystallized sword and sliced aside the crystal projectile that Mott had thrown at him, "Aha, so you've been to my vault! Tell me, did you see the power it held within? With the sacrifice of a few, we could benefit the many!"

He stayed silent, raising the sword above his head and aiming to cleave him in half. Mott smirked and waved his wand, summoning a surge of water from a nearby vase, "You fool, were you so quick to assume that I was completely reliant on my crystals? I am a Triangle Class water Mage and my runic name is 'The Surge'. Tell me, how do you plan to survive this?"

The water hardened and split into multiple pieces, each of them turning into spikes as sharp as any dagger. Raziel raised his right hand curved it in an arc in front of him, melting the water as it made contact with the Flame on his palm. Mott stepped back slightly and widened his eyes in shock: He was casting magic. More than that, he was casting wandless magic.

Things were becoming interesting.

**Manus jumped back as Seath threw another barrage of crystallized breath at him. He bit back a cry of pain as he pulled a stray crystal that had managed to lodge itself into his arm; the dragon was strong, but he wasn't very agile. He needed to find a way to outmaneuver him. All he needed was one clear shot and he would be able to end this fight.**

**"...There," Seeing no other choice, he ducked behind the large bookshelf and used it as cover. Seath growled and attempted to circle around him: He couldn't afford to lose those books, not now. Not when he finally had the power that would allow him to accomplish what he had been deprived of for so long. All he had to do was kill that pest and he would be free to do his experiments in the peace.**

**Behind the shelves, Manus waited silently. The lizard was going to die. **

Raziel dodged another wave of crystals coming for him and punched the Imperial Messenger in the jaw, "You'll pay for that!" The noble growled in pain before summoning a tidal wave that swept the Undeead into the opposite room. He grabbed at his jaw and twitched as he felt the blood going down his lips: His jaw felt like it would break at any second.

"Partner, get up," Closing his eyes and trying to ignore the pain, Raziel forced himself to stand. His body had already been riddled with stray crystals and he could feel their cursed magic taking hold. He needed to finish this quickly.

He would kill him, no matter what.

**He would kill him, no matter what.**

* * *

Louise was dreaming, she was sure of it. The dead bodies, the sounds of fighting; she was obviously having a nightmare. Just stress from the upcoming mission to Albion, that's all it was. The bodies of the dead guards, the servants crying in the corners and covering their eyes and ears...that was all in her mind. She was simply had a vivid imagine, that was all.

"Valliere!" Kirche shook her shoulder roughly before pulling her along, "Valliere, stop daydreaming and wake up! Do you have any idea what's happening?"

No, she wasn't dreaming. She blinked and looked down at the scene around her: Bodies, most likely the guards given their armor, bleeding profusely and torn apart. He could see their arms and legs separated from their body; cut clean off life a piece of meat. He saw others, their bodies burnt to death and- Oh Brimir, she could smell the burning flesh.

Numbly she walked forward, ignoring Kirche's yelling. Past the gate she could see more bodies, all in the same condition as the previous. She recognized the burns on their bodies: Stronger than the average Fire Mage's fire. Her mind drifted, remembering her Familiar's explanation on the Pyromancy that he claimed to master. She shook her head...all these dead bodies, and she knew the cause.

She could hear the sounds of fighting coming from the room ahead, "Hey, Valliere!" Kirche.

"...How...how are you so calm...?" She managed to speak out. Despite the large amount of bodies they had passed, Kirche barely gave them a cursory glance and didn't seem all that bothered by their presence, "All the...all the..." Slaughter? Murder? Massacre? She couldn't decide which would be the best to describe it. What made it infinitely worse was the fact that she knew who did it, and she had to be responsible.

"Snap out of it," A slap reached her cheeks, "Calm down and take a breath, alright? I know it looks bad, but losing yourself right now doesn't help things," Kirche reprimanded her, "Listen, the servants are mumbling something about people in the basement, so I'm going to check it out. You either stay here or you come with me, but stay calm and don't go crazy. Something tells me we're going to have to explain ourselves."

"...You didn't answer my question..." Louise remarked.

"..I'm used to it, I guess," She shrugged, "When you come from a family that prides itself on war and conquest, you tend to see things most kids don't really see growing up. As bad as this is, I've seen worse," Worse!? Louise already felt like fainting or vomiting - Whichever came first, "Now stay calm while I check out the basement. "

She watched as Kirche retreated to the lower floor. She was alone now, and she could still hear the sounds of fighting from the next room. Taking a deep breath and mentally chiding herself that she was going to regret this, she opened the door.

Raziel placed his right hand on the ground and placed as much remaining power into the flame. Flames sprouted from the ground, rising up in large pillars. He watched as the surrounding area burned, although he had a harder time focusing on where exactly Mott was. Damn it, he was already beginning to feel faint: The Pyromancy Flame wasn't meant to be used for this long-

"Raziel!"

That was his master's voice. Raziel instinctively turned towards her, "Master, what are-" He screamed, placing his free hand above his right eye as pain enveloped him. Mott smirked, his bloody lips curling into a grin as his opponent was forced into his knees by the crystal being imbedded into his eye. A true noble did whatever it took to win, even if it meant being seen as dishonorable.

"Raziel!" Louise raised her wand and...stopped. What was she supposed to do? Her Familiar was attacking the Imperial Messenger - By proxy, that meant that _**she** _attacking the Imperial Messenger of the palace. She felt dizzy: This meant treason, being executed or exiled, or possibly even disowning from her family name altogether.

"Master?" Mott looked at the small pinkette curiously, "You, is this your servant?" Louise didn't reply, "I heard what he called you! Is there any explanation as to why you sent your servant to attack the estate of the Imperial Messenger!?" Attack? Louise shook her head. Impossible, she wanted to deny it and here it was being confirmed in front of her: Her Familiar had murdered all of the guards and traumatized all the remaining servants.

"Your reaction tells me that you didn't plan for this," Mott continued, "I shall listen to your explanation if you prove that you had nothing to do with this. Kill this disloyal servant of yours and prove that you didn't commit the heinous act of treason. A reasonable exchange, is it not? Getting rid of one traitor for the life and innocence of a noble."

Louise raised a shaking hand and pointed her wand at Raziel. He was still on the floor, trying to stay conscious as the crystal embedded in his right eye blinded him. He was right: Her Familiar had disobeyed her and committed an act of treason. She had given him no choice, she had forced him to act! She was a loyal noble, trusting of her country and devoted to their rulers. To attack Mott was to disregard all that.

As she began casting her fireball spell, she tried to convince herself that she was making the right choice. Raziel looked up from his agony and stared at his master: There was no anger, no feeling of betrayal. He looked down and pulled the crystal away from his eye painfully; the sharpened edge was good enough to be a weapon. Shame he never got to use it.

The spell was nearly finished. Her Familiar had betrayed her, betrayed the country she devoted herself to...and yet he had also saved her twice, placing his life at risk in order to save hers. Her hands shook as her aim became more and more unfocused. She'd known him for nearly a month now, and in all that time he had done nothing to indicate that he enjoyed fighting. Yes he had killed, but that was only to defend her. And even when they had to decide Fouquet's fate, he followed her orders albeit begrudgingly.

There had to be a reason for this...all this killing.

"Fireball!"

She decided to trust her Familiar.

Raziel's remaining eye widened as his master's focus shifted from him to the Count. Mott's smug grin transformed into a howl of pain as the explosion hit him in the front and forced him on his back. Not wasting the chance, Raziel forced himself to stand and stabbed the crystal right into the Count's head. Over and over, again and again, he didn't stop even as the older male stopped struggling and the 'souls' entered his body.

**Manus jumped onto the dragon's elongated snout as he reached the top of the bookcase. Seath roared, shaking his head to and fro in an attempt to dislodge the invader. The Revenant tightened his grip on the dragon's albino skin and began tearing at the skin covering its nose. He roared, raising both hands in an attempt to grab at him.**

**He released his grip on the snout and felt himself rise briefly before he grabbed at his elongated horns. Seath's crystal white eyes focused on him before they widened in realization. Manus 'smiled' before impaling his clawed hand against the lizard's eyes.**

Louise did her best to look away as the sounds of the flesh being caved in reached her ears. Brimir above, what had she done? She had placed her faith on her Familiar above even the noble who could have saved her from the punishment she would've received.

It was only after the twentieth stab that Raziel finally found it in him to stop. He dropped the crystal and collapsed on his back. free hand still holding into his right eye. Unlike his other injuries, the eye wound would likely take a while to heal; as did all injuries that came from Seath's foul crystal magics. Dully, he looked at his master - She was sitting on the ground, muttering to herself about how she was doomed. He didn't understand why.

"Valliere, where are you?" Kirche popped her head in and coughed as she saw the unlikely pair. She wasn't even going to comment on the corpse, "Listen, I know you think you're doomed now, but you need to see this. I think we can reasonably claim that you and Razi were justified"

Kirche waited for a moment before making her way back to the other room to wait for the two of them. Raziel bit his lip as the pain slowed down into a dull throb, "Master-"

"Don't talk to me," She stood up from her place on the ground and made her way to the next room. Raziel stared after her for just a moment before making his way to the opposite room. He needed to see if Siesta was alright.

**Manus suppressed a laugh as he saw the dragon flail around blindly, trying to catch him. He had thought about killing him, but letting him live with the knowledge that he would never be able to continue his experiments was more torturous than any death he could have given him. Death would have been a release from this torment now.  
**

**Looking at the dragon one last time, he grabbed the torch in the hallway before tossing it to the overturned pile of books. It wouldn't kill him, and it wasn't as if he needed the books now that he lost his sight. **

**Now he needed to escape.**

* * *

Fouquet sighed, leaning against the confines of her small cell. She had been captured by those three brats - and that Familiar - and now she was awaiting execution. It was either that or exile, though she doubted that the latter was even an option. She'd embarrassed too many of the high nobility for them to let her get away with her life. Their so called 'Noble pride' wouldn't let them take it lying down.

They didn't even want to admit she was a woman. She snorted; while her arrest had been made public, the rumors and criers all called her to be a male thief. She was wrapped in thick robes that hid her figure and even the prison guards weren't told of her gender. The simple-minded pigs refused to believe that they had been outwitted by the fairer sex and now kept insisting that they had been bested by a strong and overpowering male thief. They figured they could at least keep their pride that way.

Footsteps in front of her cell - Two of them. Even without her wand, she was still more sensitive to the earth than the average Mage. She looked up and stared blankly at the two robed figures in front of her: One was small, so she could barely see them. The one next to them was larger, easily towering over the both of them. She raised an eyebrow curiously at the sight of the familiar Theatre mask.

"Are you here to kill me," She asked casually. They were likely sent here to assassinate her in case she decided to talk, "If you're going to do it, do it quickly. I'd rather we not try to make small talk."

She had accepted that death was inevitable ever since she got caught. Tiffania and the kids would struggle without her, but she was only human and knew that she couldn't go uncaught forever. She had hoped at least that she could send a final letter, but her interrogators had refused her even that. Now her little sister would never know what had happened to her.

"We have a job for you," That...was not what she expected, "Our...employer is willing to give you a second chance despite your failure. Accept and we escape now. Refuse and we kill you. The choice should be easy enough to make."

"It doesn't sound like I have much of a choice," She smiled wryly, "Fine then. If our mysterious benefactor is willing to give me a second chance, who am I to refuse? I accept your offer."

The masked figure nodded before pulling out the sword-wand from his side and destroying the lock with a gale of wind: A wind mage? That was slightly surprising, "Your destination is Albion. Your goal is to find the Founder's Music Box in Newcastle's vault and steal it. How you complete the task is up to you - Either by force or by deception. Either way, your success will be greatly rewarded."

"Another theft? Sounds simple enough," She commented blankly, "I assume your silent partner there's going to be my partner? Can't think of any other reason why he's there."

"She, actually," The masked figure smiled and lowered the shorter figure's hood. Fouquet's eyes widened slightly in recognition, "She has a vested interest in seeing that this mission succeeds as well. The two of you will have to cooperate if you want to succeed in this task quickly and efficiently. "

Fouquet walked forward and eyed the girl in front of him warily. After a couple of seconds, she extended her hand as a handshake. "So we're partners now, huh? I trust that there are no hard feelings about before? We have to put it behind us since we both need to succeed here. So...truce?"

Tabitha looked at the offered hand before accepting the gesture, "...Agreed.

* * *

"Raziel, is there something you're not telling me?" Siesta looked at her friend in suspicion as he turned away from her. She could've sworn that she saw the Count attack him with a spell, but when she woke up they were already in a cart heading to the academy joined by Ms. Zerbst and Ms. Valliere. Raziel had chosen not to say anything to her about the circumstances, but she could already figure out that something dire had happened.

A cart had been following behind her. She could see her old friends from the academy among the occupants, but she decided it best not to say anything to them till after they got back to the academy. They looked tired and many of them were injured.

"Why aren't you saying anything? I'm not going to judge you," He continued to stay silent. She frowned, "Alright, its not like I'm not gonna find out sooner or later. But, Raziel, answer me this: Is the Count still alive?"

"...No."

Siesta's frown deepened slightly as she sighed. While she felt no love lost for the Count - especially as she saw her friends sad states and his attack against Raziel - she hated to think that she had forced his hand, that he had killed all because of her. The Head Chef would no doubt welcome her and the others back, but they technically weren't maids of the academy since the 'negotiations' weren't strictly by the law.

She supposed that she would have to find out tomorrow what life would bring next.

But first, "Um, Raziel?" He looked back at her and she blushed slightly. She needed to do it, "Th-Thank you for saving me!"

Siesta placed her lips against his cheeks lightly before turning to run back to the kitchen. The Undead stood rotted to the spot at the sudden contact, brushing his fingers against where she had kissed him. Was that a kiss? He had expected a handshake or a clap on the back. That was...unexpected. He felt his face heat up. What was wrong with him? He shook his head and frowned. Now he was imagining things.

"...You're blushing," Louise walked past him and commented blankly, "I'm going back to the room."

He watched as she made her way to the tower's entrance. He placed both hands against his cheeks and rubbed it forcefully: She was wrong. Undead had no blood, so it logically followed that they couldn't blush. ...Damn it, his face still felt warm. Must be his pyromancy acting up or something. He'd used it in the fight a lot and now it was going crazy.

Groaning in frustration, he made his way to the clinic. Siesta had been kind enough to ignore it, but there was still a rather deep (and non-bleeding) impalement wound on his right eye. He needed something to cover it up before someone pointed it out. He clicked his tongue in annoyance: He had lost the use of his right eye. It would heal itself in a few days, but until then he had to make do with his right eye being unable to see.

The runes on his left hand had finally stopped glowing and feeding him unknown memories. He sighed. Unlife was still complicated even up to now.

* * *

**This chapter was kinda annoying to write, but honestly I did my best to weasel out of writing fight scenes - What we got was atrocious enough as it is. Is it long enough? I felt like the two arcs were being dragged on for too long and I wanted to get to Albion already: More plot and less forced fighting. **

**Oh, and the game's kinda unclear: Do bonfires need Firekeepers or what? I mean, killing Anastacia/The Fair Lady/Darkmoon Knightess causes their bonfires to go out. However, you see dozens of other bonfires that have no firekeeper near them and yet they never go out. I'll just chalk it to 'Gameplay and Story segregation' since the Firekeeper!Bonfires are functionally the same with the exception of initially giving you five more flasks of estus, and even that can be easily copied by sacrificing one Humanity.**

**...Either that or the Firekeeper's souls are bound to the bonfire for eternity after they die, therefore keeping it functioning. Given how horrific Dark Souls world is, it wouldn't surprise me. Oh, and apparently Tiffania and Fouquet aren't related: They just call each other sisters due to their bond. They don't actually share a dad.  
**

**Last thing: Now I know some of you may be complaining about the fact that Louise hasn't done anything except get herself captured, but there's really nothing I can do about that: Before she gets void powers, she's essentially a damsel in distress since she can't fight. Hell, even AFTER she gets Void she doesn't do much of anything other than cast for five minutes while Saito defends her. Siesta can at least be excused easily by the fact that she's a non-magical muggle who rightly can't fight against trained guards or Mages. Any tips on how to change this?**

**Anyway, time to answer some reviews.**

**LD 1449 - Because he's level 10, that's why. He never actually leveled up in his entire time in Halk, so while he can deal out a lot of damage he's not as strong as he once was and can't tank without armor. I'm also beefing up spells in general: Chaos Pyromancy can melt stone Golems despite not being that strong in canon, the Manus catalyst grants anyone wielding it OP abyss magic and crystal sorcery damages Undead down to their very core. Also, despite getting one-shotted, he didn't actually die when Mott attacked him. **

**Demon of Fate - To be honest? I have no fucking idea what to replace it with. I mean, the damn thing gets forgotten about after Saito 'dies', so couldn't any dragon replace it? What made it most valuable was its firepower, and that can be replicated easily with how buffed I'm making the Pyromancies, Spells and Miracles. **

**BloodTrinity - Ah, I knew somebody would ask me that :p Don't worry, I got plans for Cattleya and her mysterious illness that never got elaborated on. Also, the journal thing is because Seath's BLIND. His Channelers are mentioned reading for him, which explains the size of the book. That and the scene would look comical if Raziel got tossed a book the size of a flatscreen TV.**

**Demons Anarchy - You really want him dead, huh? And no, the picture is not Raziel and Louise (its Lautrec and Anastacia) and neither is his name Manus. Raziel isn't actually a name, either, thinking on it.  
**

**Some guy - No thank you: I'm already swamped as it is. If you're that interested, write one yourself. That's what I did. **

**Baddamobs - After this chapter? Unlikely that they're even going to look at one another too long. Louise is established in canon to be - despite her homicidal tendencies - a pacifist and hates taking life. Raziel just murdered his way through the estate and even killed the Imperial Messenger. Louise isn't going to ignore this with a slap of a wrist. They're going to be passive-aggressive to each other for a bit.**

**The Nurgling - Thank you for the long review :D Anyway, to answer your main question: The NPC's embody the different arts: Logan becomes one of the Depraved (post-insanity), Chester is the Rogue, Reah's the good Cleric while Petrus is the bad Cleric etc etc. Raziel was made with the intention of being a blank slate: Notice that he's reactive rather than proactive. Siesta's nice and he's nice back, Louise is annoying so he tends to ignore her, Kirche is chatty and he tunes out. If Siesta was never nice to him, he probably wouldn't have gone out of his way to go to Mott's mansion even if he knew what he was doing. He dislikes playing hero and sees little point when Mott could have someone easily replace him.  
**

**Although I recommend also reading 'Familiar Souls'. Its what I read first before I started writing this crossover.**


	18. Journey to the Floating Continent

**Finally the start of the Albion arc :) The next chapters after this will see me trying to put the spotlight away from Raziel and more on the other characters: Louise and Wardes, Fouquet and Tabitha, and Wales himself. After this chapter, Raziel will hopefully be relegated to POV to expand more on Wales and the royalists.  
**

**Oh, and before any of you go anal about me not having Louise and Raziel dungeon'd for Mott's killing: The results of the killing won't take effect immediately. Butterfly effect is key here: Mott was low key, but his position is valuable to anyone who wants freedom to deliver messages without getting too many stares. His death opens up opportunities for later on, particularly with the war on Albion and the Reconquista uprising. So I'm not going to completely diverge from canon the very next chapter. Patience is a virtue, as they say. **

**That and I made it kinda clear in the past chapters that nobility are much more stab-happy than in canon. Louise doesn't act shocked when Guiche thought his brother wanted to kill him, for example, and slavery was mentioned by Siesta back as early as chapter two or three. Nobility dying is shocking, but most of them care more about who gets the new empty position and wealth that Mott left behind. That was more of the case back in the actual 1500's-1700's.  
**

**Oh, and I'll be taking elements and characters from both the Tabitha side-stories and the Karin side-stories. So we're gonna see creatures like Minotaurs, Vampires, Bird-people, Experimental Undead (This one in particular since Undead have a high connection to Dark Souls) etc etc. You'll see the effects of this at the middle of this chapter. **

**Lastly, I'll be doing my best to make my pace faster compared to before. If I don't then I'm never going to get past the battle of Saxe-Gotha, let alone to the Romalia arc. This might result in the story having lesser words or moving through events faster, but its better than the story not moving at all.**

* * *

News of Count Mott's death spread quickly. Despite it being only three days since the 'massacre', there were already various impossible rumors that had spread even up to the capital city: An attack by Elves, mercenaries attacking his house either for profit or revenge, a political assassination and many others were the most frequent suggestions as to what exactly happened the night of the killings. The sheer amount of dead bodies, along with all the burnt corpses, made all of the nobility assume that the ones who had attacked were a well coordinated group of Mages. After all, what commoner could kill a Mage and his personal guards?

The servants said nothing; most of them either having fled the during the attack itself or being gibbering messes by the time the authorities arrived the next day. All of the ones that had remained either refused to say anything for fear of reprisals or were too traumatized by the attack, muttering things about 'One who wielded crystal and fire in his hands'. The knights who had interrogated them had deemed their testimonies to be unreliable due to the conflicting statements and outright absurd mumblings that they kept mentioning.

Investigations were planned, but eventually postponed due to many factors - The news that Reconquista had cornered the Albion royal family, the Princess' upcoming marriage to Germania's emperor, sightings of Elves near the borders, another war between two slighted nobles in the Tristanian country side, the escape of the thief Fouqet from the capital prison. Already many were linking the last event and the Count's death, claiming that the thief's escape was too close to the Count's time of death to be a coincidence.

Finding out that the Count had kept slaves and mutated creatures in his lower floors certainly didn't help things. Already there were was a split: Those who had claimed that his prior actions mattered little and that they should keep investigating, and the ones who claimed that his actions made him a heretic against Brimir and unworthy of their time.

There were talks that the opposition for the investigation was due to the fact that they would be incriminated as well: Buying slaves was hard, so one man by himself couldn't do it effectively. Given the number of creatures and the large cells located in the basement, it was estimated that he had to have had at least more than thirty slaves at the very least. To get such a high amount he would have had to trade with the other nobility and, whether they knew it or not, they would be charged with aiding and abetting slavery as well due to indirectly/directly selling lives. Such was justice in the world of Halkeginia.

As of right now, three days later, the investigations had ceased to a halt. Nobility being murdered might have roused suspensions and talks amongst the commoners, but the upper echelon knew better: Things like this happened all the time. Granted, Mott's case was hard to pin down due to his low position in the grand scheme of things, but given that there were already half a dozen nobles trying to get his position, many of them assumed that he was simply assassinated not for his slavery and experiments but rather because they coveted his position.

The Count's death was a footnote, much like the many nobles that had been killed before him.

* * *

Louise yawned and rubbed her eyes wearily, looking up at the still gray sky. It was early, far earlier than she was used to waking up on, and the sun hadn't even graced them by appearing over the horizon. Trying to stave off her exhaustion, she focused instead on adjusting her horse's saddle for the sixth time that day. She was likely aware that she had fixed it more times than was necessary, but she needed something to keep her animated.

Her eyes glanced over her right ring finger. The ruby of water, the ring that the princess had given to her when they had first talk and was asked to keep secret from everyone. This was to be her 'seal' in order to prove to prince Wales that she had been sent by the royal family and was not a simple spy. According to the princess, the water ruby would react with the wind ruby of the royal family and would prove that they were genuine allies rather than turncoats.

Now all she needed to do was wait for the Viscount.

Tending to his own horse, Raziel gave a barely suppressed frown as his hands confusedly handled the horses reins. They were supposed to leave early for a town called 'La Rochelle' and continue on to Albion from there. According to Siesta, Albion was a flying continent and so they had to fly there using a ship. He sighed: Flying continents made little sense to him, but flying to a destination rather than using one of these 'horse' creatures certainly made more sense to him. Although he did wonder briefly how a ship was supposed to fly. Perhaps there would be giant crows carrying it?

Siesta and the others were fine. The headmaster didn't even question their appearance before he gave them their jobs back, no questions asked. The ones who were...unable to function as servants were given transportation either back to their families or other domicile's. He, his master and Kirche weren't even questioned on their involvement. He couldn't tell if it was because he didn't want to find out about their involvement or if it was because he was aware of his master's mission and didn't want her to be impeded. In either case, their involvement was kept secret.

The young Undead winced as an uncomfortable itch overtook his right eye. Ever since he had been blinded, the wound refused to heal beyond a snails pace and he had to make do with only using his left eye to see, along with losing his depth perception in the process. As of right now he had to make do with covering his ravaged eye with a medical eye-patch and wait till his regeneration restored it. Usually water magic would be used to heal it, but how does one heal a corpse? He winced. The eye wasn't pretty to look at when he saw his reflection in the mirror.

"Valliere, where is this guide who will be taking us?" Guiche called out for the third time that day, already straddling his own horse eagerly, "Is it truly wise to keep the princess waiting for longer than necessary?"

Oh yes, and apparently Guiche was going with them as well. Raziel turned to the blond earth Mage before turning back to his horse. Supposedly his master had spilled the details of his mission to them while they were still drunk and before he had arrived to kick them out of the room. She claimed not to remember that and that she would never say anything of the princesses secret despite being under the influence of alcohol, but Guiche's presence said it all. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she had admitted to her involvement with the crown and the only way to keep her schoolmate quiet was to let him join.

"He'll be here when he gets here," Louise answered back icily, making sure not to turn to look at him, "If you want to leave right now then there's nothing stopping you from doing so. Your involvement in this task is bad enough as it is," Why oh why had she not kept her temptation at bay and refuse to drink? Her mother would be so ashamed of her: Losing her sensibilities after one glass of wine.

"Ah, you wound me Valliere," Guiche deadpanned back, looking back down at his side at the new rapier he had bought. It was likely that he wouldn't use it, but his father had always told him that it was better safe than sorry. Besides, the sword made him look much more dangerous and competent...not that he wasn't dangerous and competent anyway. Now he also looked the part in addition to having the traits.

Raziel bent down and examined the sword at his side. Unlike Derflinger, the crystalline sword was too unconventional and the edges were too erratic for any singular sheath to hold: He had to make do with the sheath belt that his master had decided to buy for him the day prior. Granted there was no covering the crystal blade itself beyond a small ringlet keeping the hilt attached to the belt, so he had to be careful lest he wanted the exposed edge to pierce his legs when he jumped.

He quickly found his hands leaving the horses saddle and moving to check for Derflinger. The talking sword still had his place on his back, although now he had to make do with sharing with a quiver full of arrows and the bow that his master had also decided to buy for him. Some would have found him carrying two swords, a quiver full of arrows along with a matching wooden bow to be a tad overcompensating, but he actually found it light. Usually he would have crossbow bolts on his back as well, but crossbows were slightly more expensive and his master didn't want to bother considering his eye injury. The bow was just a safety measure.

Despite his recent additions to weaponry, however, his master had refused to buy him any new armor during their preparations, only telling him "You're going to destroy it the first chance you get" before shutting down any complaints he might have had about her refusal. He snorted and grabbed at the bow; if she wanted to make him less effective at protecting her, then that was fine by him. He wouldn't be the one to blame if she got injured.

His master had not bought anything for herself, save for two vials of (expensive) medicine and three bottles of wine. The princess had apparently given her some compensation and, though he didn't find out till yesterday, the thief Fouquet also had a bounty of fifteen thousand ecu's on her. Splitting it between Kirche and Tabitha, his master had a total of seven thousand in currency: five thousand from the split bounty and two thousand from what the princess had given to her for preparation funds. Usually that was enough two buy two decent sized estates, although she thought little of that right now.

The bow in his hand felt light, much lighter than the greatbows he was used to wielding back during his journey on Lordran. Carefully aiming for one of the loose bricks on the wall, he let the arrow fly and frowned as the arrow bounced off a few feet to the right of his target. The runes were much more effective compared to his first days here, but they apparently weren't built for being used by those with crippling injuries. Using a bow with only one eye meant he wasn't very accurate unless he decided to aim for much longer, leaving himself open to attack.

"You missed," His master commented cheekily. Raziel rolled his eyes and went to retrieve the arrow. Ever since they'd come back from the Count's estate, she had gone from simply ignoring him to heaping criticism at every little thing he did: Whether it be laundry, his now temporarily missing eye, the fact that he disobeyed her or any other thing she could comment about. He'd tried to keep himself calm, though there were the rare times that he bit back that the only reason he didn't follow her was because he didn't think she was worthy of following.

That got him a smack with a whip, although it didn't actually hurt him beyond a light sting.

He grabbed the arrow from its place on the wall and looked down at the runes again. The memories he received from the Count's estate...remembering it was hard. Memories are called memories because individuals are capable of remembering them at a simple thought. But the memories stored in these runes, they were already foggy by the time he had time to sit down and think on it.

Essentially, its like being present in an event once and then being unable to recall it except for a few sparse details. He remembered some things: Being called Manus, Seath attacking him, some snake-men, and then attacking Seath again. But how these events were chained to one another, he could only guess. It was how his memory worked: He knew all of his friends were dead, but for the most part the details of those deaths eluded him. He knew Rhea was dead despite his rescue of her, but how she came to permanently Hollow was a mystery to him.

A gust of wind blew past his cheeks, causing an annoying chill to spread through him. Whatever the runes were, they were causing changes to him. His unnaturally white hair had traces of brown and the length of said hair had reached below his neck; both of which should have been impossible since his physical form was an illusion caused by Humanity. His true form, the hollowed and rotted corpse, should have been incapable of growth. He shook his head and scratched at the eye-patch again. Damn annoying thing itched.

The rest of the time waiting was spent in silence. There was one incident where Guiche's mole, Verdandi, had tried to nibble off his master's finger in order to grab some so-called important ring, but an explosion from his master's spell was enough to send said mole flying and Guiche to complain about his Familiar being abused. Soon after the sound of large wings had interrupted their discussion and they were forced to look up.

Above them, the ragtag group found a creature with the body, tail and back legs of a lion but the heads, wings and talons of an eagle. Raziel raised an eyebrow at the creature; odd, he had never seen one of those things before. The closest he had ever seen to one was the Oolacile guardian, but even that was more lion than eagle. Looking closer, they could see a figure riding atop the creature's back.

"Is...Is that who I think it is!?" For whatever reason, Guiche was pointing his rose wand up nervously at the figure riding on the creature's back. Raziel found his hands going for Derflinger; was this an attack?

"Jean-Jacques!" Or not, considering that his master had all but tackled the man once the creature he was riding landed. The man she had tackled was young; possibly no older than early adulthood, although the long silver hair and beard added a few years to him. The uniform he worse was also concealing, consisting of a dark blue coat, a matching wide brimmed hat, a gray tunic, white pants and dark boots. Odd, he seemed to be rather well-dressed for a guide. And the creature was far too large that one would need a significant amount of money to keep it fed and healthy.

"Ah, my Louise," The man smiled, his lips curling into a smile as the younger girl encircled her arms around him, "It has been a long time, hasn't it my dear? I'm honored that you would still remember me."

"Of course, how could I ever forget?" Louise beamed, although she had actually mostly forgotten about him until the princess mentioned him the week prior, "News of your exploits has reached far and wide, Viscount. I had thought that you would be the one to forget about me."

"Ah, how could I ever forget my-" And that was when Raziel found himself tuning out. He didn't need to hear his master making kissy faces at the older male, especially since he cared little for her romantic and personal life. He turned back to Guiche and found the earth Mage still gawking at the new arrival, his mouth opening and closing as trying form words but being unable to.

"How could you act so nonchalant!? Do you know who that is!?" Guiche pointed at the flirting male frantically, although Raziel just shrugged in response, "That's Jean-Jacques Francis, Viscount of Wardes! He's the leader of the Griffon Knights, the organization that's considered to be the best of Tristain's standing army." He still found no reason to be so shocked, "Even more, he is said to be trained under even Karin 'The Heavy Wind' herself! Can you imagine that!? His Runic name is the 'Lighting', as is befitting of his position and power."

Raziel rolled his eyes and started mounting his horse. Gods knew that riding this thing was harder than moving fast in Blighttown, but his master had refused to allow him to simply run along with their transportation - She didn't want him to slow them down.

"Jean-Jacques, we must hurry," Louise removed himself from the embrace and gestured to the horse, "We must take care not to be seen by any of the students. This mission is of utmost importance, is it not?"

"Ah, of course," He smiled in agreement, although his grip on Louise remained ironclad. Louise wondered briefly why before she found herself being pushed up onto her fiance's Griffon, "Come, we will ride together to La Rochelle. You are already carrying all your packs with you, I trust?" She found herself nodding. He turned back to Raziel and Guiche, "I trust you will have no problems catching up with the Griffon?" Guiche nodded enthusiastically, answering for the both of them.

"Good, let us leave then!" Louise squeaked as the Griffon rose to the air, but she felt no fear. Jean-Jacques was with her now and he would protect her, better than her Familiar who thought murdering Count's to rescue commoner maids was a wise course of action. Brimir above, she still didn't know how none of them had immediately gotten executed for treason. She knew that noble assassinations and fratricide were disturbingly common among the lesser nobility, but this was kind of ridiculous.

"Are you comfortable, Louise?" Wardes chuckled at her nervous nod and pulled her closer to him, "Come then, there is no need to be shy. You and I are betrothed and it would hardly be proper manners if I let my fiancee fall to her death. Stick close to me and don't be afraid. Close your eyes if you can't take it, but hold on tight. We don't want you to fall. Do you understand?"

Louise nodded meekly and leaned back, letting the larger male take the lead as she vaguely heard the sounds of galloping horses below her. She was so tired, and the warmth and wind around her was so relaxing. Perhaps she could rest her eyes for a minute, just until they arrived at the next town over. It would do for her to be unfocused and exhausted when things mattered, after all.

As she drifted off to sleep, the last thing that passed her mind was that maybe things weren't going to be so bad after all.

* * *

They were being followed.

Raziel looked behind them before quickly turning forward on his horse again. He wasn't hallucinating: They were being followed by the pair ever since they rested at that small village - The journey had taken two days so far, and they hadn't stopped save to eat or to rest. He couldn't make out their gender: The cloaks and clothes that they wore were too thick and not an inch of their skin could be seen, despite the sweltering heat of the sun around them.

"I still can't believe Valliere's fiance is the captain of the Griffon Knights," Guiche droned again for the umpteenth time, "I mean, I understand that she comes from the prestigious line of the Valliere's, but the Viscount is famous for earning his way to the top of the knights rather than it being because of his family's position. To think he would be content with being engaged to the 'Zero' of all people rather than from somebody from another noble house."

Raziel paid him no heed, still doing his best to take subtle glances at the people following them. He had dealt with stalkers before: Many of the invaders he had fought against seemed to take pleasure in abusing the Chameleon sorcery and turning into various items in order to instill paranoia. He had fought off a dueling pair that had stalked him through the darkroot basin, turning into trees to try and confuse him. Unfortunately for them, Pyromancy had the added effect of burning down trees when uncontrolled. Heh, he still remembered how one of them tore off the disguise and jumped off the cliff like his arse was on fire...oh wait, his arse was on fire. That explained the screams.

"Truly, he is a humble and great man..." And a liar. Raziel looked up at the Griffon flying in front of them. Though it was harder to see due to his impaired vision, he still managed to see the barest traces of a liar in him: His smile was fake, for one thing, and the joviality in his voice was forced to a degree. Although what he was lying about he didn't know- No wait, he knew exactly what he was lying about: He was lying about being happy that he was being married to his bratty master. That was exactly it. After all, who could stomach his master's temper and demanding attitude? It didn't surprise him that the Viscount had lied.

"Regardless, I wonder what this mission is about," Guiche continued, completely oblivious to the pair following them or the fact that Raziel wasn't listening to him at all, "Valliere refused to say anything when she was drunk and she absolutely refuses to talk about it now that she's sober. I tell you, that girl is truly a fickle and unable to be honest with herself. I'm surprised her family hasn't disowned her yet." He continued, somehow ignoring the irony in his statement.

Raziel wondered why exactly Guiche was talking so casually to him. While he didn't hate him, he could hardly call the blond fop a friend or even a friendly acquaintance: Siesta was a friend; Kirche and even Tabitha was a friendly acquaintance; that blue dragon was prey; the princess was the one who had sent them on this damn task; and his master was the brat who thought she knew about sacrifice and death. Guiche was someone who had attempted to fire Siesta and assault him over a perceived slight, but he had honestly dealt with so much worse - Patches and Chester immediately came to mind - that he found it hard to keep a grudge.

That didn't exactly mean that he liked the guy, though.

"I do now know. Master has said nothing," He looked behind him again and scowled as he saw the horses still following them. They had come across a forked path earlier while Guiche was rambling about how great Wardes was and, following the Viscount, they had taken the right path. There was no doubt about it: They were being followed. There was even a brief period where the Viscount had gone faster and the two of them were forced to rush forward, and (as expected) the two following them had sped up in order to catch up and only stopped when they slowed down.

Whoever they were, it was likely that they didn't think any of them had caught on. Guiche continued ramble - something about regaling Montmorency with tales of heroics after they came back - and the Viscount was likely too high up to see them. Raziel re-adjusted his position on the saddle and resisted the urge to turn around and attack them. It would do little to attack them now.

"Ah, here were are!" Guiche pointed forward towards the next settlement, "There, the port city of La Rochelle! This is your first time coming here, is not?" He nodded, "Ah, then I trust that this will be a great sight for you!"

A great sight indeed. Raziel stared at the settlement, entranced by its features. Most of the villages and even the capital they had passed were well-built, but there was a theme of simplicity and boredom among them. The port town, however, was completely made out of stone. It wasn't an exaggeration: He could see two large boulders one the entrance's side and the settlement was located between a gorge on the mountain, meaning that the buildings were literally carved into the mountain itself. There were a few buildings made of wood here and there, but for the most part the town was stone.

Wait, he was getting distracted. He quickly turned back and cursed as he could no longer see the two figures or their horses. It was either he had been wrong or they had taken the chance to hide - Either was a possibility, all things considered. He shook his head and placed a hand on the crystalline sword. He had no idea how much longer it would last, but it was stronger than Derflinger was. He might have needed it in case they got attacked.

Entering the town was done smoothly, and Raziel was honestly pleased to find that no one had attacked them or attempted to rob them: It must've been the Griffon leading them from up above, along with the cloak that Guiche worse. Nobility may have been rich, but rarely anyone wanted to fight against a person capable of bending the elements to their will.

"We stop here," Wardes called out as the Griffon landed on one of the more open spaces in the town. Raziel could see that his master was asleep...or maybe she had fainted. He couldn't recall, although she supposedly had a problem with riding creatures that soared in the sky, "I'll rent us two rooms at the Inn: One for Louise and I and the other for the two of you. I trust this is acceptable?"

"Of course, Viscount!" Guiche answered for the two of them again. He had learned rather quickly that the student was a fan of the Griffon knights.

Wardes vision lingered on Raziel before he carried the sleeping Louise inside. He had heard rumors about his fiancee summoning a human Familiar, but he hadn't expected the two of them to act so...stand-offish to one another. Every stop they had taken, neither of the two teens had even deigned to gaze at one another before they were once again on the move. When he had asked her about the summoning day itself, she would simply clam up and say that the summoning was defective or that she regrets every day past it.

It was simple enough. That meant there would be no trouble for him.

* * *

"How have you been, Louise?" Wardes smiled and raised the glass of wine up, his fiancee smiling in response and copying his gesture, "I must admit, I regret not being able to see you for the past ten years. Life has been...troubling for me and my family and the Griffon knights kept me busy that I never re-established contact with your family. How are they?"

"They're fine, Jean-Jacques," She took a sip of her fruit juice diluted wine before continuing, "Mother and father are both busy right now, both consulting with the crown regarding various matters and keeping up on the upkeep of the estate. Honored sister Eleanor is on the Academia, doing her best with her research and projects. And big sis Catt...she's still at home, although I heard from the last letter that her illness had gotten slightly better. I wish I could visit her..." She admitted hesitantly.

While she usually had no problem discussing her sister with anyone, she felt some slight hesitation when talking to her fiancee. Cattleya was originally stated to be the one who the Viscount would marry, which made more sense since the age gap between the two was a mere two years against the ten she and the Viscount shared. Unfortunately, her illness had taken hold not long after she had reached fourteen and, despite Wardes insistence that he didn't mind it, the engagement was quickly cancelled and Louise was the one who had been given honor of marrying him.

And while she felt affection for Jean-Jacques, she couldn't help the slight guilt she felt when she thought of her sister. It was like she stole happiness from her.

"Your kindness hasn't changed at all," He laughed at the blush that tinged her cheeks. Geez, he always knew which buttons to push for her, "I suppose I haven't told you what happened to my family, have I?"

"...I know they're all dead," She started off slowly, "The details elude me, but I heard something about an attack by a rival family?"

"That's the official story," He nodded solemnly, "In truth, I don't know exactly what happened. I was out on a training expedition with your mother and when I came back all of my family was dead. My father, my brothers, even my nieces and nephews. I saw their bodies...I was barely able to recognize them. They had been injured to such an extent that it was hard to tell who was who. The only one I recognized was my father, his head was...hanging from the ceiling. It was impaled on the mantle, like someone thought it was amusing."

"Brimir above..." She gulped down her wine and hurriedly grabbed for another serving. She needed something to keep her distracted, "I'm sorry, I...I didn't know. All I was told was that they had been killed and that you were the only survivor. I could never...I'm so sorry for-"

"Louise, please, you have nothing to apologize for," He interrupted her with a solemn expression, "The story after that is the same as you had heard: I was the only survivor of my family and I worked to ensure that my family name isn't forgotten. It took ten years, but I at least like to think that I redeemed my family in the eyes of the nobility. Some of the older families look at me with disdain in their eyes, but I care little for their trappings."

"You have done more than enough, Jean-Jaques," She was surprised to find herself reaching for his hand. He said nothing as her smaller hand took hold of his, "I've been labeled as a 'Zero' at school by my peers, and even my own family when I was younger. But among them all, you never looked down at me. Even when big sis Catt got sick, you always visited her till your own family perished and you even worked to restore your family name. You did more than most."

"...Thank you for the kind words," He swilled the wine glass with his free hand, "Up to now, I never understood what the culprits were aiming for. If they wanted wealth, why did they kill my nieces and nephews? They were barely five years of age, and the youngest was only two. Killing them served no purpose, and yet I found them dead in their beds and their cribs. The vault was untouched, and the only thing I noticed were missing were a few of my mother's research notes."

"Research notes?" She asked back carefully.

"Yes...but that is a story for another time," He gave a gentle smile and drank his final glass, "I'll be retiring to bed now, if it's alright with you. You'll forgive me if this room only has one bed. I assumed-"

"Its alright," Louise shook her head and giggled, "We slept together on the same bed when I was younger, did we not? I don't mind it if we share again. I've done it with big sis Catt until I had to leave for the magic academy."

Wardes nodded wearily and turned off the lamp. Sleep would be good for them, especially considering the mission at hand.

* * *

Daphne looked at her twin sister and smiled, receiving a nod in return from her. It was rare for the two of them to get deployed, even more as a pair considering their...circumstances. Vampires were hardly ever looked at fondly considering their condition and general reputation: Even a single ghoul they create is capable of razing an entire village to the ground in next to no time flat. Many feared them even above the Elves themselves, as at least the pointy eared devils didn't require the feeding on blood to function...as far as they knew, anyway.

There was also their firstborn magic. Unlike the elemental system of the nobles, the magic of the firstborns/spirits was given to a rare few: Using a magic that took from nature itself - Willing plants to come to life, conjuring lightning from the air, taking stone and shaping it with but the flick of a finger. These were the abilities those who had been blessed by the spirits were capable of.

But a vampire's greatest weapon was deception. Unlike nobles, Vampire's required no foci to cast and were visually indistinguishable from a human, save for some odd traits like immortality or the aversion to fire - And even then, immortality was impossible to spot without spending an inordinate amount of time with them and aversion to fire could be easily explained by the dislike of being burned in general.

Helping them with this was their innate 'Charm' magic. Vampires easily made people feel at ease and calm without even trying to, regardless of their appearance or personality. Victims who had survived a Vampire's assault described it as being held under a spell, as if their body felt naturally drawn to them and their mind was relaxed. Those of a scientific mind would have suggested that they either manipulated the hormones in the body in order to draw up arousal and affection or that they used some kind of pheromone that made the person fall under their whims. In either case, nobody alive could resist a Vampire's charm unless they knew what to expect beforehand.

"Are you sure that its them?" Amethyst looked over the two males sitting on the small table, each nursing a drink in their hand. The young woman (at least in appearance) removed the last of her cloak before hiding it in her pack, "They seem a bit young to be the thieves we've been sent to re-capture. Perhaps he was mistaken?"

"No, they're the only ones that match the description: A male earth Mage and a young companion," Daphne replied, though she could understand her sister's hesitation. Ever since their old taskmaster had died, the new one who had taken his place...left much to be desired. He was young and hotheaded, not to mention more than a little sexist, and things only got worse when he found out about their Vampirism. Already this had been the fifth mission where they had been given barely any info before being sent on their way.

Really, the only thing they knew was the the thief was supposedly a male and that his companion was young. The guard who had managed to eavesdrop on parts of their conversation also mentioned that they would be heading to Albion in order to steal the Founder's music box, which would no doubt be easier considering the royal family was in dire straits now that they had lost the war against Reconquista.

Amethyst put the last of her covering clothing in her pack before looking up at their 'targets: One was a blond with a handsome face, a noble based on the cloak that he openly wore around him. The other also appeared to be a teen, although the brown streaked white hair and eyepatch made it hard to determine how old he was supposed to be exactly. In either case, the noble was the only male earth Mage they had seen all day. While the details given to them were usually sparse, they also tended to be correct under most circumstances.

"Do you remember what we have to do?" Daphne asked.

"Of course," Amethyst nodded, "We use our 'Charm' to separate them into the two rooms that we bought. After that we'll ask them for information on who employed them and whether they can contact them again. Once we get all our information, we drain them of enough blood so that they lose consciousness but not enough to kill them. We need to bring them back to the capital for further interrogation and then imprisonment."

Daphne smiled. It was the norm for their assignments: Their previous taskmaster had specifically given them either reconnaissance or capture jobs in order for them to keep to their 'No killing unless absolutely necessary' rule intact. Right now they had to make sure that they only took enough blood that was necessary. It had been a while since they had 'fed' and knocking them out by taking their blood had the double purpose of allowing them a few more days before they had to feed again. They just had to make sure to stay calm and not let temptation overtake them.

"Alright, lets do this quickly."

At the table, Raziel gulped down his third mug of ale quickly before lowering the empty cup back on the table. At his side, Guiche was already nursing his fourth glass of wine and getting rather tipsy, if the reddened face and incoherent ramblings was any indication. Sighing, Raziel poured another full cup of ale and drank it down in one gulp, ignoring the fact that doing so was rather pointless all thing considered.

It was ineffective, although he had no doubt that that would be the case. The Undead didn't get drunk; corpses had very little enough as it was and the lack of blood and other hormones meant that they felt very little from drinking whatever they could unless it was the Estus drink. There was also the fact that Undead never had to release fluids or other fecal matter, so he could only assume that any fluids or food that he ingested were disposed of some other way. Maybe they were burnt by Pyromancy or something.

That and there were theories that the Darksign stopped the effects of alcohol for some one reason or another. Although unconfirmed - seeing as those branded with the darksign had much more important things to worry about - it was also generally assumed that all Undead were sterile, if they were even capable of having intercourse to begin with. Another reason why the Undead were hunted down: Those who believed that the Darksign was a disease thought that they would eventually infect everyone, therefore leading to a world where nothing is born and nothing ever dies. Stagnation and decay being the only things left.

"Heh, and Montmorency goes up to me last night and tells me that she wants to break up with me," Guiche slurred, although Raziel was barely paying attention at this point, "So I tell her 'You know what? I'm going to prove I'm a hero come tomorrow and then you'll see that we're made for each other!'" He grabbed the bottle and glared as he suddenly realized that it was empty, "And then you know what she says? She tells me that I'm gonna kill myself doing something stupid and that she won't even bother visiting my funeral. How cruel!"

Gods above, why was he even here? He thought to grab for another drink before deciding better of it. No matter how many times he tried, he wasn't going to get drunk, buzzed, tipsy or any other type of sloshed. His master and the Viscount were up above, talking about abyss knew what. The only reason he was even here and not upstairs in the room was because Guiche had invited him to drink and hadn't taken no for an answer. He was curious to see if alcohol affected him, but that was soon answered after his second cup and the lack of taste the ale had on him.

"Why do you argue with her?" He was going to bite the proverbial dagger and actually humor the blond noble, "Do you not love her?"

"Heh, guess you've never been in love?" The smug sense of superiority in Guiche's voice was obvious, "Listen, I'm a male. When I see charming girls, do you honestly think that I can keep my instincts suppressed? No, that is what makes us human!" For some reason, some of the other male patrons in the bar raised a cup at his loud announcement, "She acts like that, but what am I supposed to do? I'm not a Golem that she can call and dismiss on command! I'm a human being, damn it! Its not like I can help it!"

Raziel was glad that he had left Derflinger in the room, else he was sure that the talking sword would be doing his best to talk over the irate noble. One talking idiot was bad enough; he didn't need two that tried to compete with one another.

"Excuse me, may we perhaps join you?"

Guiche looked up from his glass and immediately felt himself become awestruck. It was either he was seeing double, or there were a couple of attractive women asking to join them- No, calling them attractive would've been an insult. They had an inhuman beauty about them that caused him to immediately feel attracted to them. Huh, he often found himself falling for the charms of women, but this was different. He wanted more.

"Of-Of course!" Guiche stuttered out, nearly spilling his cup of wine in his enthusiasm. Raziel looked at Guiche warily before turning back to the pair, "My acquaintance and I were simply enjoying our drinks...and-and we would be happy- No, we would be delighted if you decided to join us!" Okay...Guiche was acting kind of odd. Even when he apologizing to his master he seemed more confident.

The pair introduced themselves as Daphne and Amethyst before sitting down across from them. Raziel took note of their somewhat odd appearance: Pale skin, almost as pale as his, and red eyes that were a shade darker than his masters. Their hair was dark, and ended in pointed intervals at just below their neck. Beautiful if one asked the right person, but useless to a being who was incapable of feeling sexual arousal and attraction. Although he could see where Guiche's eyes were staring at. It wasn't as if their attire left much to the imagination. He had to question the logic of a black dress that exposed ones back till just above the buttocks.

If he had to guess, he would've assumed them to be in their late teens or early adulthood; no older than the Viscount was. Twins as well, given that they looked and dressed exactly the same.

"We're sorry for bothering you," Amethyst was the first to talk, "My sister and I were lost and we were hoping to find someone friendly to sit with till nighttime came."

"Its...its not a problem..." Guiche was smitten. He didn't care if he had only know this girl for a couple of minutes, he was utterly lovestruck. He thought that princess Henrietta was the epitome of beauty, but he was wrong. He didn't care about the drinks, he didn't care if he looked stupid, and even Montmorency was slowly drifting to the back of his mind. He wanted to have her all for himself.

Raziel looked at his drinking partner neutrally, "It seems your words ring true," He had never seen Guiche this way. The earth Mage always had a veneer confidence and being suave, able to defuse a situation with his words and expressions. Now he looked like a panting dog, his entire face red and his eyes blatantly looking at Amethyst's chest. Did drunkenness impede one to the point that they regressed to baser instincts like this?

"Nice to meet you," Daphne said from across him. He looked at her briefly before nodding. Guiche's reddening was getting worse and he could see the beginnings of blood trickling down his nose, "Um...what's your name?" She asked hesitantly. Odd, his companion seemed to be affected well enough, but he was ignoring the charm magic like it wasn't even there. Even if he...didn't prefer the fairer sex, the magic still should have worked on him. They had fed on women before, after all.

"Guiche!" The lovestruck student stretched a hand out to Amethyst. Supposedly it was to shake her hand, but it went a little to close to her chest for comfort. The woman accepted it with an innocent smile regardless.

"My name is Raziel," He mimicked Guiche's gesture, although he had maintained a decent distance from the woman's chest. Daphne smiled and accepted the gesture before she suddenly shivered. Odd, his skin felt way colder than normal. She took her hand back and forced herself to keep smiling. Vampires were naturally more sensitive to body warmth compared to humans due to their need to feed on blood, but his arm felt eerily cold for some reason.

"So what brings you two here?" She asked, doing her best to ignore the fact that the suspected earth thief's companion was acting way too oddly considering their charm magic. Did he know they were sent to capture them? No, that was impossible. They had made sure to cover themselves up from the sunlight that no one would be able to tell if they were male or female to begin with. And even then, suspicion should have been quickly disregarded in favor of attraction or arousal. Unless he felt like his life was in danger he should have fallen under the charm's effects.

"Oh, we were going to Albion for- oof!" Guiche was unable to complete his sentence before Raziel stepped on his foot from under the table, throwing the playboy a stern look in the process. While he cared little for the princess' whims, he was not going to be the one to explain why exactly everyone in the bar knew where the four of them were heading. Their relationship was already bad enough and he didn't want to make things worse.

"Albion? How interesting," Amethyst mouthed something to her sister before turning back to Guiche, "Um, I know this may sound untoward, but could you please escort me up to my room? I'm afraid I don't know this inn very well and I'll need help arranging my things."

"Of course, my lady!" Guiche ignored Raziel's attempt to hold him back and quickly linked arms with the older woman, grinning from ear to ear as many thoughts filtered into his head. Raziel watched them go with a slight frown before he poured another serving of ale from the bottle. He just hoped Guiche wasn't going to reveal anything that he didn't need to. His master would find some way to blame him, and attempting to get drunk would at least pass the time.

"Mister Raziel?" Daphne spoke out again, "Um, I know this may be rude to ask, but could I ask you to escort me to my room as well?"

Raziel resisted the urge to sigh before nodding his head, doing his best to ignore the fact that some of the other bar patrons were glaring at him. Evidently they had felt jealous about him attracting the attention of the female, though he had no idea as to why exactly they cared so much. They were glaring at Guiche as well, although the wannabe hero obviously didn't pay attention to them considering his drunken and lecherous state.

"Lead the way," Daphne waited momentarily before it became obvious that he was going to make no attempt to link his arm in hers. Truly odd. Was the Charm magic not taking hold? The other bar patrons were already staring at her, so it must've been a success. Even when they didn't mean to, Vampires naturally put people at ease since their 'Charm' was always active. When deliberately trying to deceive someone, however, even the most hardy soldier would fall prey to the Vampire's charms. His ignoring of it was...troubling.

* * *

Raziel looked around the small room absentmindedly. Apart from the small table containing some kitchenware and the bed off to the corner, the place was completely barren. He walked over to the lamp on the wall before raising a match to light the wick. The damn place was just too dark, and he hated being kept in the dark for too long. It reminded him too much of the Tomb of the Giants.

"Mr. Raziel," Daphne called out, "We're alone now, so...do you mind if I ask you some questions?" She needed to interrogate him for information and, failing that, knock him out via blood draining in order to drag him back to the capital. No doubt her sister was already gaining all the information the thief had. She had to do her part and ensure that the mission was a success.

"I apologize, but I must get back to my room," He had to get Guiche before the damn fool made things worse for all of them. He was already a blabbermouth when he was sober, so he dreaded to imagine what he would say now that his lips had been loosened by alcohol.

Daphne was completely silent as he walked past her. She didn't understand. Why was the magic not working? Only those who had firstborn magics themselves were capable of resisting the natural allure. Well, either that or corpses, but the Vampire hadn't exactly tried deceiving a corpse yet. The corpses she had seen under Cobias' command were simply puppets animated by water magic; beings that weren't truly alive to begin with. There was something naturally...off about them that made them incapable of actually acting like a human.

She had no choice. She needed to knock him out and interrogate him by force later on. Taking a deep breath and making sure to keep herself calmed, she forcefully encircled her arms around his neck and bit down.

Her teeth pierced through the skin and began the process of absorbing blood. Two minutes of slow absorption should've enough to-

"Guh!" The Vampire immediately removed her mouth from his skin and vomited out the blood. The grayish black liquid stained the wooden floor of the room, causing her to shiver as she felt the aftertaste. It was wrong. He was wrong. Even with the quick contact she could tell that he had just barely any blood on him, what blood remained tasted rotten and disgusting. He was supposed to be dead, there was no way around it, and yet he wasn't.

Raziel backed up quickly and slammed his back against the wooden wall. Daphne grunted in pain at the sudden contact and he slammed into the wall again, this time successfully dislodging her grip from him.

He collapsed into the floor in a crumpled heap and placed a hand against his neck, trying to ignore the pain that threatened to envelope him. What in the abyss did she do? It felt like the Estus liquid had been siphoned out of his body. He stood up weakly and tried to grab for the knife on the table. He was an idiot for leaving his weapons back at his room. He needed to be more careful.

Daphne shook of her dizziness and began trying to cast a spell. A sleep inducing fog would work, but it was a last resort since it would have affected everyone inside the inn. She really didn't have much of a choice this time- Shit, he wasn't falling asleep!

Raziel grabbed for the knife clumsily and charged back at his attacker's position. She barely had time to dodge before he lodged the food instrument against the wall. She noted uncomfortably that the blade had gone all the way into the wooden surface. It would've impaled her right on the neck if she chose to hesitate for even a single second.

She scrambled away before casting another spell, this time a massive gust of wind that pinned him into the wall. The Undead struggled briefly against the buffeting winds before he felt anger bubble within him. If she wanted to play with the elements, then he would oblige.

Daphne flinched as she suddenly felt the area around her burn hotly. Trusting her instincts, she moved to the left quickly and barely avoid the pillar of fire that sprang up from under her. Despite the intense heat she felt, the fire stayed in its position before disappearing in a flash. She gaped at the lightly scorched wooden floor before turning back to face him.

Something was wrong. The fire he created didn't spread, and yet it was more fierce than even some of the square class fire Mages he had fought. She took a ragged breath and debated on which spell to cast next. Vampire's weren't as weak to fire as people loved to exaggerate, but the fire he had used had barely even made contact with her and she already felt pain.

What in the abyss was this woman? She had no foci and yet she was casting spells that were stronger than the Mages he'd seen in the school. He stood up weakly and grabbed the knife from the wall with his left hand, making sure to keep his Flame stable. He didn't have much uses left. Best to kill her quickly before they attracted any more attention.

Raziel charged forward and moved his hand in an arc: Fire whip. A basic spell, but the power spoke for itself. She backed away and ducked under the Flames. Spirits above, the heat was too intense.

No matter for it then - She was going to have to use more lethal force. Another quick spell cast before Raziel electricity surge around him, "What-" A bolt of lightning slammed into his midsection, forcing him back against the opposite wall. Not wasting the chance, Daphne ran forward before pinning him against the wall.

"Stop struggling! I do not wish to fight you!" His hands were pinned. He growled and struggled against her hold, but she refused to budge, "Please, we were ordered to take you alive. Don't force my hand and we can end this peacefully."

Her grip was strong, and the way she kept him pinned to the wall made it obvious that she stronger than her thin physique indicated. An Undead? No, Undead weren't capable of magic like the one she used.

He needed to find a way to escape. Guiche was in danger and most likely his master as well. He was right; someone had been observing them, likely because they knew of their looked away from her and did his best to keep his expression neutral

He only had one chance at this, and he didn't even know if it would work, "I surrender. But please, look me in the eye and tell me that no harm will befall us." He turned back to her and urged her to come closer. Without the Flame in his hand, he wouldn't be able to project the fire for too long.

"I promise-" A burst of flame interrupted her. Her grip on him loosened as she felt the fire eat away at her skin. Not letting her recover, Raziel tacked her onto the floor and stabbed the knife into her neck - She was still alive, given that her struggles hadn't ceased at all despite the blade penetrating her body.

"Who are you?" She didn't answer. Raziel grabbed at her exposed neck with his right. The Vampire flinched as the burning skin made contact with hers, "Why did you attack us? How did you know of my master's mission?"

"Master? So you really are..." She winced and stifled a yell as the heat on his palm intensified. So she was right: He was an Undead, a puppet controlled by water magic. They were told that the earth Mage thief was capable, but to be able to replicate what only the Spirit's could do...it was unbelievable. She opened her mouth, trying to form a coherent reply. She was beginning to feel lightheaded.

The door to the room opened with a loud crash. Raziel tore his gaze off the Vampire and turned to look at the new arrival, "Let go of my sister!" Amethyst demanded, bounding into the room quickly before slamming the door behind her. Guiche was with her as well, although he was barely conscious against the Vampire's grip. She must have drained him already, like the other one attempted to do to him.

"She attacked me," He replied.

"Let go of her, or I'll kill your friend," She took a dagger and placed it against the unconscious noble's neck. Raziel's remaining eye narrowed at her hand - It was shaking, and the dagger was barely touching his skin at all. It was either she wasn't used to taking life or she was and yet she was still uncomfortable with the idea of it.

"Tell me why you attacked us," He stood up slowly, making sure that his hold on the other Vampire's neck remained ironclad. He wasn't stupid; he saw her panicking when she saw the fire. He didn't doubt that if he let go for even a second then she would be able to overpower him.

"Its a misunderstanding," Amethyst replied, the dagger she was holding lowering from Guiche's neck, "I've talked to your friend and he told me that he had no idea what I was talking about. I think we've made a large mistake and we should talk this over," Raziel remained skeptical, "Please, I just want my sister to be safe. If you wish for us to leave, then we will do so. Just stop hurting her."

Raziel observed her carefully before he slowly let go of Daphne's neck. She wasn't lying, and her hesitance in trying to kill Guiche spoke volumes about her sincerity. Amethyst smiled in relief before pushing Guiche to him. The Undead caught him before throwing him onto the floor haphazardly. He would wake up sooner or later.

"Now, I guess we should explain?" Raziel only gave an annoyed nod.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Fouquet turned back to the small bluenette. They'd arrived in La Rochelle in only a day - That wind dragon of hers was fast - but they were forced to wait for an extra day. Their orders had told them to hire a band of mercenaries in order to distract someone, although who exactly they were was unknown to the both of them.

"Doing my part," She grabbed for the sack of coins and shook it carefully. Inside was two thousand Ecu in coins, along with the details of whoever they were supposed to attack or keep distracted, "Our employer told us that we need to hire some mercenaries in order to distract some kind of group. He didn't tell me who they were or why they're so important, so don't ask me."

"..." Tabitha nodded mutely before turning back to her book. The thief sighed before making for the door to leave. Despite the fact that they were partnered with one another, the young Chevalier seemed content to ignore her unless it was absolutely necessary. While she could deal with that, and she honestly found it relieving since it allowed her some privacy, there was something else that bothered her.

The paranoia and suspicion. Every time she had to leave the room, every time she went off to take a walk or even just to go to the bathroom, the girl would ask her where she was going and refusing to budge unless she explained exactly what she was about to do; like she was going to stab her in the back the first chance she got.

Although considering she had tried to kill her before, Fouquet couldn't exactly blame her.

"Oh, and pack your things," She turned back to look at her, "Once we pay them, we're going to have to leave immediately unless you want to get trapped in a fight that has nothing to do with us. Your dragon's at the port, right?" Another subtle nod, "Good. Change into the clothes that we were given. We need to look the part once we get to Albion, and we only have one chance at this."

Tabitha watched her leave before standing up from her bed and opening the satchel: Inside was set of male servant clothing, although slightly more refined than normal. She stripped out of her traveling clothes before changing into the male clothing. The plan was for Fouquet to pose as a traveling Aristocrat and she to be her manservant. While she didn't exactly understand the logic behind it considering Newcastle's current besieged status, she wasn't going to question it either. No doubt that man made the plan as inconvenient as possible in order to entertain himself.

The inn was large. She could've sworn that she made out Guiche on the floor below them, but she chose not to sate her curiosity. She had a mission and she had to focus, not wonder why her schoolmate was in La Rochelle.

Downstairs, Fouquet looked around briefly before making her way to the largest table she could find. There were at least a dozen males sitting on the giant round table, all drinking various assortments of alcohol and laughing merrily at some sort of violent or sexual conquest their comrade just finished recalling. The perfect people for the job: Idiots who thought too highly of themselves.

"Hey, lookie here boys!" The biggest one there, a brute with plate armor that she presumed to be the leader, pointed at her, "Hey there, lady! Wanna join us for a drink? We promise, you'll have a good time." The other males raised their beers and ales, laughing rowdily at their captain's bold offer.

She reached into her cloak and pulled out her wand. The guffaws immediately stopped. Some of them were Mages themselves, but fighting against another Mage was usually more trouble than it was worth, "No thank you, though it is kind of you to offer," She gave a forced smile, "I have an offer: Two thousand Ecu up front, and double that at the listed location provided you manage to succeed. The job's details are listed inside the parchment inside. Do you accept?"

The captain grabbed for the coin sack before jiggling it slowly. Warily, he opened it and gaped at the large amount of gold coins, "You're saying we get double the amount if we complete the task inside?" She nodded in affirmation. He rubbed his scruffy beard briefly before taking one last gulp of beer, "You have a deal then. When do we have to do it?"

"Right now."

* * *

"Vampires!?" Guiche yelled out in shock before he clamped his mouth shut, "Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight: You two are Vampires that have been working in secret for the crown for the past 30 years? And you've been sent here on some kind of secret mission in order to capture someone because they plan to steal from Albion's newcastle treasury?"

"Nn, that's right, although its more like 34 years" Daphne nodded. She'd finally managed to dislodge the knife from her neck, but there were still traces of burnt flesh along her pale skin. Raziel refused to apologize - not that they had demanded an apology in the first place - considering she attacked him first, "We were told that the culprit was a male thief and his companion, and you two were the only ones that matched the description. We saw you casting during the last stop in town and we assumed it to be you. You were the only earth Mage to pass by and the timing was too close for it to be coincidental."

Apparently the reason their fight hadn't elicited more reactions was because the room they were in was currently enchanted with a silence spell; a specialty of the inn, as Daphne noted. He was just glad that his Pyromancy could be controlled to stop the fire from spreading beyond its target area, or else they would have both burned to death in the confined space. And he still had no idea where that next bonfire was since he had killed that Pisaca.

Although he had to admit that the Vampire's healing was impressive. Beyond the reddish skin, there was absolutely no sign of injury from her. Most people would have had their face melted off when they took a Combustion spell at point blank range.

"A thief!? Me!? Never!" Guiche denied vehemently, waving his rose wand dramatically, "I am a proud member of the house Gramont and a student in the Tristain magic academy. The idea that I would be a thief- Well, frankly its absurd! I would never lower myself to stealing from hard-working nobles," No, he was just content to steal the affection of females. Raziel rolled his eyes at the dramatic denial. A simple 'No, its not me,' would have sufficed.

"Gramont?" Daphne repeated, "Um, this may be rude to ask, but could you perhaps be related to sir. Rancis? You remind me of him."

"Rancis? You knew of my father?" Guiche asked back curiously.

"Father? Oh yes, I suppose that makes sense," Daphne giggled, though it sounded strained due to the pain in her throat, "Yes, he was part of the group that saved me and my sister when were younger. He, Mr. Barkus, Mr. Centurion and Ms. Karin. We haven't talked to them recently, but my sister and I miss them dearly. They were our closest friends back then."

Karin? Could that be...No, no. Karin was a common enough name. And he was sure that his father would have mentioned if he knew the 'Heavy Wind' in his youth, "Then I suppose it is destiny that we would meet today, dear maiden's!" Despite the charm magic no longer being actively used, Vampires still had a tendency to put people at ease. Guiche wasn't aware of it, but he was still being manipulated, albeit not on purpose.

"I suppose it is, but we have little time for pleasantries," Amethyst interrupted, "We were told by our taskmaster that the infamous thief Fouquet of the crumbling earth was to steal from newcastle's vault and-"

"Wait, did you say Fouquet?" Raziel interrupted. She nodded in reply, "You...have made a mistake: Fouquet is female."

"""What?""" All three occupants in the room intoned at the same time. Guiche was the first to get his bearings, "No, that's impossible. The news and even the town criers called Fouquet a male thief. Why would they lie?" Although he could already hazard a guess as to why. Most older nobles would have found the idea of being outwitted by the fairer sex to be embarrassing to their reputations. But surely they wouldn't lie to the extent that no one would know, right?

"I would not know," He shrugged nonchalantly, "Regardless, I remember what I saw. My master and I were there, along with Tabitha and Kirche, when we captured her. I believe that you know the thief as Miss. Longueville?"

"Miss. Longueville? She's Fouquet?" First vampires working for the crown, now earth Mage thief secretary's. What was the world coming to? "We all assumed that the headmaster had simply fired her for one reason or another. But to think she was Fouquet...well, its simply unbelievable."

Daphne and Amethyst looked at one another and frowned. It was either their taskmaster had set them up to fail from the start or he was no more aware than Guiche was about Fouquet's true identity. Either way, it didn't bode well for them. Their mission hadn't changed, but now they had no idea if the thief wasn't already in Albion to begin with. They'd wasted nearly a day tracking the pair.

"Forgive me, my fair maidens, but I must...get something to drink from below," He stood up from floor and made his way to the door. He needed something to calm himself: Vampires working for the crown, Vampires that had befriended his father 34 years prior, the academy's secretary being some kind of undercover thief in disguise. It was more than he could take in one sitting.

The atmosphere in the room became eerily quiet as Guiche left the room. Raziel looked away from the two Vampire's, unwilling to make eye-contact. Maybe he should leave already. It wasn't as if he had anything to talk about. He at least had gotten his weapons back from their shared room, although Derflinger was unnaturally quiet for some reason, He reasoned that the sword must have been 'sleeping' considering the late hour.

"Mister Raziel?" Daphne called out. Raziel turned back to her, although his expression remained neutral, "Are you..." She stopped. What was she supposed to say? 'Are you a corpse that's been re-animated by water magic'? Yeah, that would go over real well.

"I am an Undead, if that is what you are curious about," She nearly jumped at the blunt reply, "I suppose it is alright to tell you. You already tried to drain my body of blood. You could have killed me as well, but you were holding back. I trust that this is because you were told to bring your target back alive?"

She nodded at the guess, "That wasn't blood. Blood tastes different, and the one I took from you tasted...wrong in a way that I can't explain," She shuddered as she recalled the taste of the 'blood' she had taken from him, "You also weren't affected by the 'Charm' magic." Amethyst added for her sister.

"It is likely due to this," He pulled down his white tunic and revealed the branded circle at the bottom of his neck, "Undead are branded by the Darksign and it is what keeps us animated: Blood and other bodily fluids are also absent, save for the Estus drink. This means we are unaffected by things that would cause us to become intoxicated or aroused. Perhaps this is why I was unaffected."

"What is that?" Amethyst reached out a hand to touch the mark, but Raziel backed away from her, "I'm sorry, I was simply curious. None of the Undead my sister and I have seen had that mark on them. Most of them were also incapable of speech, save for the rare cases. They were simply puppets made from water magic. Tell me, how did your master create you?"

"My master didn't create me," He replied, somewhat annoyed at the implication, "Anybody can become an Undead, provided that death takes them and the Darksign chooses to curse them. We retain our memories from before our death, so I would appreciate not being called a puppet." He failed to mention how he didn't remember his own memories, although that was due to a rare case. He had to have been someone at some point before the Asylum.

"You keep your memories?" Daphne wondered aloud, "Odd, according to research its stated that using spirit artifacts or water magic in order to restore someone to life does nothing but simply make a another spirit inhabit the body. Your case is...different from what we have encountered before," Her eyes switched over to his right hand, "The magic you use is unique as well; similar to the magic of the firstborns. Can you-"

"Big trouble!" Guiche slammed the door open before closing it behind him hurriedly, "A bunch of mercenaries just held the Inn hostage and they're refusing to let anyone out! We need to do something!"

"What about master?" He grabbed for his discarded weapons before slinging them on his back. His Pyromancy was mostly used up due to their fight earlier, so he would have to hope that there weren't too many of them at once.

"They're already downstairs, so we need to hurry up and help them now!"

Raziel looked at the two Vampires and they nodded in return. They understood what he was trying to say: They would have to cooperate in order to get out of here.

* * *

**Now before anyone gets on my case again: Daphne and Amethyst are NOT OC's. Daphne is a supporting character from from the Karin side-stories and she, along with her sister Amethyst, were recruited into Tristain's black ops at the end of the second side novel. Despite the somewhat cliche 'Vampires who don't kill' premise, they're actually interesting because** **they're frigging Vampire's who work for the crown. You'd think these two would appear at some point in the main story or someone would tell Henrietta, but they never come up despite the story potential. So I'm using them now.**

**So yeah, I replaced the Wardes duel from canon for a brief skirmish with a Vampire. This also provides a link to Karin and the Valliere's in general because Karin actually befriended Daphne and is supposed to be aware of their position in Tristain's secrets. **

**Anyway, time to answer some reviews before I update next week:**

**Mr. Black 64 - Because you have to take divergence and butterfly effect into account. Raziel's a penniless foreigner, so what do you think is gonna happen if he kills a noble and the fourth son of a famed general? The Gramont's are gonna want blood, and Raziel was gonna get his arse executed considering how weakened he was. And that's assuming none of the other nobles get paranoid and kill him on the spot right there. Louise might get herself thrown out of the family. And if not, the Valliere's look weak and traitorous because they don't expel the daughter who owned the Familiar who killed the fourth son of a famous general. The smallest things can utterly derail a fic, and I didn't want to write a story where Louise is executed and Raziel dies four chapters in because there are no bonfires. Even injuring him leads to panic and hysteria.**

**Although you do have a point about Montmorency. I generally dislike the first six chapters since I made no effort to combine the two worlds yet. **

**Keeper of all lore - Read the chapter again: There's an entire paragraph explaining why he isn't panicking more that his stuff his gone.**

**Strogg Grunt - I'm not thinking of romance yet. I'll put a moment here and there, but for the most part its more about the world and the development of the characters. Siesta's the only person he could call a friend in Halk, so of course his interactions with her are more friendly and close compared to the students.  
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**Primal Chaos - Because he doesn't know that. No one told him that bonfires are made of Undead bones or that he could do it himself. I've also shown time and time again that Undead bodies are stronger than normal: He gets smacked around and he never breaks his bones, let alone get dismembered. And really, would Louise or anybody else let him use the obviously rusted sword to hack off his limb if he ever decided to try it? Because something tells me that he'd be unsuccessful considering how hardy his body is shown to be. That and he's not a sociopath - There's a difference between using a limb to block an attack out of desperation and hacking off said limb on the off chance that it can come back. **

**BloodTrinity - She was trying to rationalize that she was dreaming rather than that the bodies were real. I thought I made that clear during the chapter.**

**ArkT - I wanted to switch, but again there was little point to extending the arc further: The chapter was already at 13k words with all the stuff cut out. I would've had to split it in two if I included Siesta's, Kirche's, and the maid's POV's.  
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**Not exactly. In lore, anyone from the richest noble to the lowest bandit can learn Pyromancies/Miracles/Morcery. On the other hand, ZNT lore dictates that only those with specific genes can learn their magic. So it essentially boils down to - Dark Soul arts can be learned by anyone after being taught/self-trained, while Halkegninia magic is only usable by those who have the right genes. There's nothing to indicate that the arts from Dark Souls require specific genes, so anyone can use it if they work hard enough; its just stupidly hard without being taught second-hand that most people wouldn't even bother. Even Mott took years.**

**Madlink - Check spacebattles. Also, I didn't cut away anything - They were already at the school at the beginning of the segment. Siesta only recalled that she was in a cart and that she had seen her friends, but she was recalling it only. **

**Nephilim209 - Thanks for the long review, but I'm not going to be reading Hill of Swords: I'd rather finish this fic without going to the process of "Is my fic as good as *insert fic here*". I want to finish this without the temptation of aping segments from the obviously better fic, so I'm not going to check that out or the other 'Juggernauts' of the crossover archive. I already have a general plan for this arc anyway. The only thing I'm having problems with is it is the Dragons Raiment thing.  
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	19. An Attempt at Reconciliation

**Seven reviews till four hundred ;) Never thought this would get so far, but here it is.**

**I'll try to compress the arc a bit so we don't get too distracted, but I'm still not sure since I feel like the 'words by progress' bar seems a little large. Hopefully the pace can be quickened a bit. I don't need to focus on every single little thing they do, so I'll be skipping segments that add nothing at all that a blurb wouldn't be able to explain/replace. So fight scenes that are better imagined than shown will count on this.  
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**One thing to say, though: Maybe I should drop the romance tag. Or at least, drop it till Julio appears since it's his romance that gains most focus. Just because the Vampire's are female does NOT mean they're here to be romance partners - They have more of a connection to the Valliere family and Tristain's black ops in general, which I find interesting because the black ops does jack all during the twenty volumes. So can we stop the romance questions, please? I'm not gonna think about that seriously/critically till about Saxe-Gotha. Before that its mostly teasing or for story purposes.**

**As stated before, I'll try to make Raziel's segment focus more on Wales and the loyalists a bit more. Oh, and a cookie to anyone who can catch the shout out in this chapter.  
**

* * *

"Get down!"

Louise ducked her head just in time before a shot flew over her head, missing her by a mere few inches. Frowning, Wardes grabbed the rectangular table and flipped it onto its side to use as a makeshift shield against the bullets and crossbow bolts being pelted at them. The wooden structure wasn't going to last too long, so they had to get out of here as quickly as they could.

"What are we going to do?" Louise squeaked out a yell as one of the arrows the mercenaries fired embedded onto the table. Far too close to comfort, "How many people are there? I can't see from here." She peeked her head out from the table's edge only to lower it quickly as she saw one of the musket wielding attackers aiming at her forehead. Standing up was tantamount to suicide right now.

"...At least a dozen," Wardes dodged the crossbow bolt aimed at his head. These mercs were accurate, which was doubly impressive considering the darkness of the night outside, "There are civilians being forced onto the floor between us and the entrance. Spells aren't going to work unless we want to kill or injure any innocent people," He looked to the bar's counter, "The one who owns this place is gone as well. It's likely that he was paid off to ensure that the inn would be used this way and that any guards or knights coming wouldn't be alerted to what they were doing. We can't wait for help"

"Then what are we going to do?" Her hand went to her wand before she grimaced. What was she going to do? Make them cough to death? Her explosions were strong - sometimes even able to knock people into walls or unconsciousness when she was angry enough - but they could only target at most one person at a time. Killing one of them would prove useless unless she was sure she could keep firing of strong enough explosions rather than just loud puffs of smoke.

A set of footsteps coming from the stairs behind her interrupted her thoughts. Raziel ran down the stairs quickly, the two Vampires and Guiche trailing behind him, "Hurry-" A gunshot interrupted whatever he was about to say, "Uwaaah!" Guiche yelled and quickly ducked his head, putting both arms in front of him as if it would stop the projectile.

"Get down!" Amethyst ran to the blond noble and tackled him to the ground, avoiding the following barrage of crossbow bolts that would have punctured his chest, "Everybody, stop standing and get down! You'll get shot otherwise!" She grabbed the nearest table's edge and flipped it onto its side, similar to Wardes, using it as a makeshift barrier. Although it was painfully obvious to her that the 'shield' wouldn't last long.

Following her yell, both the Undead and the Firstborn crashed dropped to the ground, each grabbing for their own table to use as a cover, "Standing seems to be dangerous," Raziel deadpanned, looking up from his already prone position on the ground. He looked around briefly before he spotted a familiar head of of pink hair, "Master is there with the Viscount."

"We'll be shot if we try to move to them," Daphne grimaced as a hole suddenly appeared at the table's right side. While Vampires were naturally more hardy compared to humans, attacks still hurt them and they were under explicit orders not to expose their status as Firstborns to anyone under threat of being burned at the stake like heretics. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that Raziel and Guiche were human - although the former had a bit of a condition - so they would no doubt be impeded heavily if they allowed themselves to get shot.

"Wh-What do we do then!?" Guiche yelled. Normally he would be ecstatic over the fact that Amethyst was clinging so close to him, but the fear of getting his brains splattered on the wall reduced the 'Charm's' effect heavily, "We can't leave the two of them out there and we can't move unless we want to get shot! Oh Brimir, this is too much! This was supposed to be a quick and easy task!"

"Please be quiet," Amethyst grabbed for a bottle lying on the floor and tossed it against the left wall. Hearing the sound, six gunshots reacted and bombarded where the bottle landed before the mercenaries realized no one was there, "Six shots," She mumbled, "From what I can see, there are 18 people with muskets with 6 in a row each. Every time they fire they need fifteen to thirty seconds to reload, so the the row behind them takes point while they recover. Assuming they get at least half a minute before having to fire again, they can keep going so long as they have ammo to spare."

We are trapped then," Raziel grabbed for his bow and arrow before lowering it with a small frown. There was no way he would be able to aim at them fast enough considering his missing eye and their better armaments.

"There is one way," Daphne interjected, "If we can trick them into shooting continuously and without giving them a chance to reload, that should give as about 15 seconds at most to make it to where your friends are," She looked down at the floor in frustration, "But that means one of us has to go out into the open and risk being shot. I think I should do it. I may not be as fast, but I can heal better because of what I am."

She was tempted to use a sleep spell, but the range of the attack would hamper them in the long run. Unlike the Elves, a Vampire's spell was naturally weaker due to their lower connections to the spirits - If she used a sleep spell, there was a likely chance they wouldn't be able to get hem all, especially not at this range and due to their lack of water to use as a spell catalyst. She'd already burned out her flask of water trying to put Raziel to sleep, and that proved useless as well. At this distance she would do nothing but place Guiche to sleep.

"No! We were told that we couldn't expose ourselves to anyone unless they were willing to keep our secret," Amethyst interjected quickly, "There are people outside being kept hostage and the mercenaries can see everything. Even if we get out of this we'll be branded as heretics unless we manage to keep our secret intact. We have to find another way."

"What other choice do we have-"

"Enough," Raziel got into a kneeling position and looked up at the table's edge carefully, "I will distract them. I still need to make it to master's side, so this is the most sensible course of action."

Daphne looked like she wanted to argue with him before Guiche raised a shaking hand to interrupt, "U-Um, pardon me for interrupting, but does it have to be a person that distracts them?" She found the question odd, but shook her head regardless. As long as it distracted then it didn't matter if a mouse was the one running around, "Then might I suggest using my bronze golems instead? They're human enough in shape and can take a decent barrage of bullets before giving in. Once I send them out we can just run to the Viscount's table."

"...Genius," Raziel laughed slightly at the student's suggestion. He had almost forgotten that the noble, despite his tendencies, was a mage from this land.

"Alright, I'll send them all out once. One of you count the shots and we'll go after the eighteenth one passes," At their nods, he waved his rose wand and summoned three kneeling golems, "Go, my Valkyries! Charge the entrance!" The constructs stood up stiffly before beginning their mad charge towards entrance. The mercenaries looked surprised at the charging constructs and immediately peppered them with their guns, ignoring tactics altogether.

"Now!" At Amethyst's yell, the four of them stood up from their tables and ran to where Louise and the Viscount were taking cover. The mercenaries seemed to realize their mistake and tried to aim for them, though they quickly found that their guns were empty and unusable. They had all fired on the golems in their panic to keep the people in. They weren't going to fall for tricks like that again.

"I see you made it," Wardes commented nonchalantly as the four nearly crashed onto the table in their hurry, "I'm not gonna bother asking who your two friends are, but I'm going to assume they're allies?" Raziel mouthed a "Yes" as he grabbed for his bow again. He was closer now and he could aim better, though he still doubted his capabilities, "Then I hope we can trust them to help us here."

Louise looked past her Familiar and gasped as she caught sight of the two figures, "Big sis Daphne! Big sis Amethyst! What are you two doing here?"

"Louise! You're here as well!" Daphne replied, surprised at the sight of the tiny pinkette.

"You are acquainted with these two, Master?" Raziel grabbed for the bottle and mimicked Amethyst's trick from before, but no gunshots moved to greet the sound this time. They had gotten clever to their tricks. Sighing, Raziel grabbed for an arrow and started stretching the bowstring. He couldn't aim just yet, but he could still prepare the bow in case he needed to make a quick shot.

"Yes, they're-" A gunshot rang out again and Louise felt her ear ring as another piece of the table - this one just two inches from her ear - flew off at the bullet's, "You know what? I'll explain later. We need to get out of here first!" She placed both hands on her head as more bolts embedded on the table's front. While the main rows mainly used muskets, some of the mercenaries off to the side still threw potshots at them with crossbows just for a laugh. Though why they didn't attack them sooner with it she had no idea.

Something was wrong. They had enough guns that they could easily perforate the table and all of them in it. But so far they seemed to be content to only shoot at them whenever they tried something or when a noise resounded inside. They could have killed them by now, and yet they stayed outside and refused to charge in or fire unless they looked to try and escape. This was both inefficient and a waste of resources.

"Agreed," Daphne pulled Guiche and the Raziel closer and whispered, "Louise doesn't know of our condition, so please take care not to mention it. Her mother would be appalled if she found out."

"O-Of course!" Guiche immediately answered. Raziel contented himself with nodding slightly, "So do we have a plan in motion, Viscount?" He turned to the Griffon Knight, "Surely you can use your magic to blow apart those mercenaries! Or perhaps you could call your Griffon down from the sky and command it to lay siege to the men standing outside!"

"Unfortunately not" Wardes shook his head in refusal, "There are people outside being forced on the ground, likely to be used as hostages and human shields. Any spell I use will have the heavy risk of either injuring or killing them if I try it. Same goes for my Griffon, since it's likely that they'll shoot people if they think that they're going to lose control of the situation."

"What about a back entrance?" Louise suggested.

"Its possible, but they likely already covered that as well," Wardes sighed, "Although there is a high likelihood that there are no hostages on the back side due to it leading to the alleyways and canals; there wouldn't be any room to hold hostages, at least not more than about two or three. Regardless, its all pointless since we can't run to the back without getting shot in the back."

"What about a wind shield?" Louise suggested again. Wardes was a Mage trained by her own mother, so surely he was capable of making a barrier.

"Too small," He replied, "I can make one for one person, two if we push it, but there are at least six of us here. I can make a tornado around us, but that won't stop us from getting hurt by the wind or the place collapsing on us if I try it. A barrier that reflects bullets is very much different from a gust of wind. And before you suggest using wind clones, know that won't work either. I can only make copies of myself and, even if they somehow ignore the fact that there are multiples of the same people running around, we still have to deal with the fact that there are eighteen of them wielding muskets. I can make six at most and at that point one shot would be enough to dispel them. It won't stop them from shooting at us."

"I could try my golems again," Guiche cut in.

"You already tried it once," Raziel was the one to reply this time, "They will not fall for the same trick twice and it is likely that they know that one shot to the head is enough to stop the Valkyries from moving."

"...Then we're doomed..." Guiche wailed, throwing up his arms briefly before suddenly slamming them back down. He would have gotten shot if he exposed his arms from the top of the table, "We're stuck in this table, none of our spells work, they have a plan to keep us in place so long as they don't get tired, both entrances are sealed, and then Tristain and Germania are going to stop their treaty because we couldn't complete the mission. Once our failure reaches the royal palace we'll all be tried as incompetent, and that's if we all don't die here and become buried in an unmarked ditch."

"Calm down," Raziel punched him in the shoulder lightly and rolled his eyes in annoyance, "We must keep calm and think normally. There are eighteen of them out there and there are no distractions that can be used to ensure that all six of us can escape." He internally scowled. By all accounts they were trapped, and since they weren't dead yet it was likely that they were being kept here rather than killed. They had more than enough chances to shoot at them and yet they didn't take it. If they did nothing then they would be the one to lose here.

"...Damn," The Undead stood up suddenly and aimed his bow at the row of musket wielders. Letting his luck handle the draw, he let the arrow fly loose and watched as it...bounced off harmlessly against the mercenaries metal armor. He could hear some of them laughing at his pathetic aim before they raised their rifles to shoot at him. He barely heard his master's voice to tell him to get down before pain erupted on his right shoulder.

"Ah," He fell onto his back and clutched at his shoulder. Blood and damnation, why did those things hurt so much? For such tiny things they surely contained a strong amount of power. Blinking away the white spots in his vision, he used his left hand to try and grab for his bow again. It was the only way to attack them that didn't place anyone else in danger.

"You idiot!" Louise smacked him at the top of his head and dragged him closer to the table, "Do you really think you can shoot them all down with just a bow and one of your eyes? Don't be a moron," Raziel didn't answer, "What would you have done if they shot the people on the ground? We were asked to do a mission, not to kill innocent people. Don't do something like that again. You already pushed your luck before."

"That's enough, Louise," Wardes grabbed her shoulder gently and pulled her back, "This is not the time to argue right now. Whatever you have to say to your Familiar, it can wait until after have escaped this situation," He turned to Raziel, "Are you capable of moving? We need to run out of here if we're to have a chance of escaping this problem."

"Yes, it is a minor injury..." Despite his words of warning, his eyes narrowed at the sight of Raziel's shoulder. His bloodless shoulder. He had been shot by a musket, he'd seen it, and yet her fiancee's Familiar appeared to be physically fine apart from the hole in the white tunic he wore, "They are wearing armor. Projectiles will do little but distract them."

"Should we just surrender then?" Guiche suggested, ignoring Louise's scowling reaction, "I mean, we're not going to do anything just sitting here behind this table, and newcastle could be getting besieged while we argue on ways to escape. Mercenaries only care about money, so maybe we can bribe them and then they'll let us go?" Louise continued to scowl at him, "It was just an idea! What else can we do!?"

"That has to be one of the stupidest-"

"Actually, I think it might work," Daphne interrupted before Louise went off on her long tangent, "Me and my sister could feign surrender and then attack them from behind. During the confusion the four of you can escape using the back door."

Louise immediately refused, "No! Do you have any idea-"

"Its the best plan we have," Wardes spoke over her, "Are you two Mages by any chance? I recall seeing you two in the palace from time to time, but I assumed you were simply ladies in waiting. Do you have any combat experience?"

"I'm a triangle class wind Mage and my sister's the same, only her element is earth," Amethyst answered, reciting the lie that she and her sister were instructed to use everytime someone asked them about using magic, "We lost our wands due to an incident earlier, so could we trouble you to lend us a spare wand? We'll use it to cover your escape and we'll give it back when we see each other again at the castle. You are part of the Griffon Knights, if what Sir Guiche said is correct?"

"Yes," Wardes placed a hand inside his cloak before pulling out two wands and handing it to the two of them, "Once you feign surrender and start casting the spell, we will run. Make sure to keep the people safe and to get away yourselves once you accomplish the task." They were lucky that he had spare wands on him. Every Mage with ranking positions in the army always made sure to keep three wands on them at all times; in his case it was two spare wands and his sword-wand - Or swand, as some people liked to call them.

Raziel was sure glad that the mercenaries were letting them talk this long. He would have shot them already if their positions were reversed. Must be because they were trying to distract them rather than actually kill them, although he doubted any of them would care if they got killed by a stray shot.

"I still don't think-"

"Its alright, Louise," Daphne placated, interrupting her yet again, "Whatever it is you're doing here, I assume it to be important. We'll be fine."

Louise opened her mouth to complain, but her voice got caught in her throat. She knew she should have protested more, she knew she should have pointed out that they would be disarmed if they surrendered, but something was telling her to let her mother's friends handle it, "Okay...just make sure to be careful..." She stared at the floor and took some calming breaths. They would be fine, something was telling her that they would be okay.

Raziel stared at his master's odd behavior before throwing a slightly disapproving glance Daphne's way. She was using the 'Charm' magic to placate her.

"Let us begin then," The two Vampires stood up and slowly walked to the entrance, holding their hands up in surrender. The soldiers were tempted to fire before catching sight of the two females. Some of them immediately licked their lips; their intentions were rather clear to Louise. She gagged at the thought and was half-tempted to call out for them to come back, but Wardes pulled her close before she had the chance.

"Louise, once they start casting we'll have to run. Do you understand?" She nodded, her eyes never leaving the entrance, "Louise, look at me," He cupped her chin gently and made her face him, "The back entrance will be less occupied, but we'll still have to fight. At close quarters your wand won't be able to do you any good. Take this," He pressed something cold and firm into her hand, "Whenever you feel like you're in danger, do not even for second hesitate to use it. Its your life or theirs and you need to make that choice without any reservations."

Louise looked at what he had passed into her hand and shivered as she saw the small dagger. It was sharp and of fine make, but the size of it was far smaller than most of the daggers she had seen when they went shopping for supplies the last two times. It was just perfect for her, "How did-" The sounds of screaming interrupted her. She turned her gaze back and saw the mercenaries scream as the earth beneath their feet began to crumble and the plants started grabbing at their legs and arms. She winced as some of their comrades were smashed against the walls by the buffeting wind, the armor making a loud crash on impact with the wall. That had to hurt.

"Now!" Wardes grabbed her hand and ran quickly towards the back entrance. Louise screamed in both fear and frustration as some of the mercenaries tried in vain to shoot clumsily at them, missing them by just a few feet. Trailing behind her, Raziel was shooting his bow to distract them and Guiche was summoning all the golems that he could to use as makeshift shield, "Doing that is pointless! Keep running" Wardes shouted back at them.

He tightened his grip on Louise's hand and pushed the door open with a slam, "Hey, who are-" There were two mercenaries stationed in the back. The first ones eyes widened briefly at the sight of the unfamiliar people before Wardes used his free hand to stab him in the neck with his rapier, "Argh khp!" Blood spilled from his mouth and he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

"You'll pay for that!" The second merc attempted a charge at Wardes before he found his neck unceremoniously being separated from his body by the blade of a rusty sword. Raziel winced as he shook his right shoulder slightly. Dismembering was far easier to do to the people here compared to Lordran, but the bullet wound was still annoying to move around with. The attacker's 'soul' left his body and entered the Undead's.

"Thank you," Wardes nodded at him, "Come then, we must get to the boat before it leaves port. I suspect that our trials aren't over yet."

* * *

Tabitha petted Sylphid's nose affectionately and offered a loaf of bread to the dragon's drooling maw, "Kyuu!" The blue dragon squeaked affectionately, chomping at the offered treat with barely restrained hunger. She hadn't gotten anything to eat since they had left the academy for La Rochelle and no one in the inns approached her or ran away when she tried to pester them for food. Jeez, she wasn't going to eat them! Just because she was a dragon didn't mean she was a monster. She liked to think that she kept her urges restrained, even if there were times she wanted to bite people's heads off for annoying her.

"Do you really have to do that?" Fouquet asked back, not even surprised when the bluenette didn't deign to give her a reply, "Just make sure to keep watch. This is uncomfortable enough as it is," She reminded her.

They'd arrived in Albion early - again thanks to her impromptu partner's dragon - so that meant they were still under cover of night. Unfortunately, that meant that the rebels observing the area were free to detain anyone they saw due to their own self-imposed curfew. She sighed. The royal family was really falling if the rebels could openly impose their own rules without anyone stopping them. The majority of the populace supporting them was the final nail on the coffin, although many of them did it in the hope that they would be treated better by the new regime once they took power.

Of course, that was all a lie. She'd heard of the reputation of King James of Albion. He'd killed his brother many years ago, along with most of his brother's vassals, supposedly for some kind of power grab. She knew the truth, of course, but the truth and the rumors did mix somewhat: He'd murdered Tiffi's father because he also held power over the royal funds. He wanted to build warships and little brother wouldn't give him the key to the royal banks. When he'd found out about his brother's heretical actions he had made sure to kill him publicly along with all his vassals in servants to make sure no one opposed him.

Of course, the king failed to realize that killing your brother and refusing to explain yourself out of pride made the populace think of you as a monster. Her grip on the dress tightened as she began to strip out of her clothing. She would have preferred to change at an inn rather than a dark alley, but they needed to appear as a mistress and her young servant to anybody who passed by; the new regime didn't bother nobility so long as they didn't claim to support the Tudor line or be loyalists in general. She should have changed sooner.

Her father had been one of the first killed; he remembered him running into the house one day and telling her and her mom to wake up, and that they needed to run. She remembered the Mages set fire to her house and how her father stayed behind so they could both run. She and her mother had been hunted down like animals in the forest and...

She shook her head to dispel her thoughts. Now was not the time to reminisce. She finished putting on the clothing before hiding her wand in one of the long sleeves; no one would see her as a threat and she was willing all too well to take advantage of that.

"Orders?" Tabitha turned back to her after whispering for Sylphid to take flight; she didn't want her to stay around or to stay in human form since they needed to fake being a simple pair of being nobility and servant. Her Familiar would come for her if she called for her.

"It says we have to wait at the inn near the edge of the city and the closest to Newcastle," She tossed the rolled up parchment to Tabitha, daring the girl to try and verify to see it herself if she didn't trust her, "We'll meet someone there in a few hours and he'll give us the details on what to do next," She looked up into the sky, "Rumor has it that Newcastle's going to be under siege come tomorrow morning, so we either have to steal from the vault come the next morning or during the night. I doubt Reconquista's going to leave the vault untouched by the time they finish, so we have to finish this before the royal family falls."

Tabitha peeked her head out of the alley and made a quick observation of the street they were about to pass: No townspeople save the occasional drunk or the bored Reconquista sentry. She turned back to Fouquet and gave a barely noticeable nod, one that was returned quickly. They had to avoid the sentries if they could, but at least they had a disguise if things ever went south.

"...Ready..." Tabitha nodded and pocketed the parchment. It was time to wait.

* * *

Louise took a deep, relieved breath as she saw the ship passing through the clouds and up to the skies above La Rochelle. The captain had tried to deny them passage by claiming that there wouldn't be enough windstones that they carried weren't enough to take them to Albion till morning came - excusing himself by saying that the floating island's position wasn't close enough till the morning came and that they would need either extra windstones or be content to come crashing to the ground without support.

But of course, her fiance had thought of a brilliant idea: Rather than wait around and let the mercs possibly catch them - although the only they would have been able to do that was by passing both Daphne and Amethyst, and she didn't want to think what that meant - he had suggested that he use his own spells to help propel the ship, at least until they reach Albion. Right now he was busy preparing and that meant she was alone with no one to talk to but the crew around her. And she didn't particularly care to talk to sailors who had nothing to converse about beyond the mastheads or wind intensity for sailing.

She could have gone back to her designated cabin, let herself get some rest after everything that had happened, but she found the idea of sleeping hard right now. It wasn't that she wasn't tired - she'd spent only about half an hour resting before she found her fiance waking her up to warn her about mercenaries - and yet everything that had happened made the idea of sleeping till everything was over difficult. She wouldn't allow herself to feel at ease till she found Prince Wales, got that letter and finally returned it to her dearest friend.

Burning the letter was also an option, but she doubted that she could ever push herself to do that. It meant so much to the princess and she couldn't imagine her heartbreak if she found her lover's final reply turn to ashes. She knew that she should have disapproved of her friend's secret relationship, but all she could find in her heart was pity. She was to be wed into the emperor of that barbaric country Germania, a man known for his odd tastes and careless nature. The man who imprisoned his extended family in a mansion and waited till their corpses became cold before even seeing them again. She wept for the trials her friend faced.

Her eyes scanned the deck. Nobody but sailors not paying her any attention or deckhands tying and untying escape boats or inspecting the cargo they contained - apparently sulfur was really valuable right now and fetched a fair price, provided one took the risk of transporting the cargo. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as the smell of rum and other assorted alcoholics wafted into her nose. Because they had forced the ship to go ahead of its departure time, most of the sailors were still barely sober and running on fumes. She just hoped they wouldn't crash and kill them all.

Another glance and she found her Familiar's recognizable form sitting against one of the ships railings. She rolled her eyes and, with a tired sigh, began to walk over towards him. The idiot was probably going to fall to his doom; some of these railings could be so fragile that it was ridiculous. And she supposed that talking with him was infinitely better than standing around and thinking about how things could go wrong. Guiche was already asleep in his own designated room and she certainly wasn't going to wake him up and tell him she wanted someone to talk to since her fiance was busy. The fop might get the wrong idea.

"Raziel," She called out his name once she stood in front of him. His left eye twitched slightly but he didn't reply, "Hey, I'm talking to you," She called out again, slightly more irritated this time. He looked up at her briefly before turning to look to the side. He didn't want to talk to her now, especially since he still felt sluggish from both the drain and the gunshot wound from earlier.

"What is it that master wishes to say?" His voice came out as forced, which was surprising since she was used to his flat affect.

"What...What are you doing?" She fumbled quickly. She didn't actually plan on what to say to him or what to talk about. If Brimir above was so kind she would have preferred to talk to her fiance instead, but Jean-Jaques was busy using his magic to ensure that none of them went crashing into the ground. Truthfully she would have preferred to vent on his idiocy during the incident days ago, but she was beginning to get a bit tired of yelling.

"Looking out to the majestic sights," He replied half-sarcastically. While the view in the sky was indeed vast and all-encompassing, the darkness of the night and the clouds blocking the way made it so that anything he looked at was likely to be either too dark or covered by clouds for him to see properly. His lack of complete eyesight wasn't helping in this regard.

"Stop lying," She rolled her eyes as the jab and sat down next to him, though making sure to keep at least a couple of feet between them. She didn't even know what she was doing here. Her Familiar obviously didn't want to talk to her and she was too jittery right now to sleep, so perhaps all she wanted was a distraction? That's what she'd been doing for the three days that they prepared for this trip. He ignored her and she ignored him. She had every right to be angry at him; he had committed what amounted to treason and she could have killed him. And yet she trusted him.

"I would never lie," He lied again.

"Just...stop," She was getting irritated. Sighing in frustration, she scrambled her mind to think of a topic for the two of them to discuss - Anything to pass the time till they arrived in Albion, "How did...Oh, right! How did you meet Big sis Daphne and Big sis Amethyst?" She saw his right hand immediately grab for his neck. Odd, that wasn't what she was expecting.

"We met due to a mistake," He answered quickly. A bit too quickly, "They...had gotten her room wrong and Guiche insisted on talking to the one you refer to as Amethyst. The remaining sister and I did not talk much; she apologized for getting the room wrong and I did not press her on it," He rubbed his neck again as he felt the sting of the embedded fangs, "Guiche came back soon after and informed us of the bandits. Nothing else happened.

"Guiche? Why am I not surprised," She shook her head exasperatedly. The playboy never could pass up the chance on trying to woo a female so long as he thought them worthy enough to spend time on. Granted she didn't think he would have much luck; Her mother's old friends were kind, but they were mature despite their young age. They reminded her of Big sis Catt in a way.

"...You seem to be acquainted with them," Daphne had mentioned it earlier: Louise wasn't aware of their...condition. He couldn't help but smile slightly. They likely had no idea that she was his master or that she was aware that she harbored an Undead. He had to make sure to tell them if he ever met them again or if they survived that distraction. They would have found the entire thing ironic.

"That's right," She brought her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The night wind was cold and fierce, "They're my mother's old friends. I don't know how she met them or why they're so close considering their large age gap, but both father and mother told me that they were friends of the Valliere family," She smiled wryly, "Actually, they're not the only ones. The Gramonts and the Grandples are supposed to be close allies to us as well, but that didn't stop Guiche and Malicorne from ridiculing me at school. I suppose it doesn't concern us children."

"..." Raziel said nothing as he gave a blank sideways glance at his master.

"The last time I really met them was when I was twelve; three years before I went to the academy," She suddenly frowned, "Something happened - I'm not sure what - and then they just stopped visiting. I was really surprised when I saw them in the inn, and I wish I got a chance to talk to them. Its been three years and they haven't changed at all."

"One wonders why," He found his master's cluelessness about the whole thing to be slightly amusing. Had she known the truth, would she accept it with open mind like Guiche did, or would she push her mother's old friends away like they were monsters? He never could tell if she accepted his Undeath as a part of him or if she was secretly repulsed with who...what she had summoned. She never gave strong reactions to it and always told him to keep it a secret not out of disgust but because she didn't want to be branded a heretic.

"Raziel...we need to talk about what happened at the Count's estate," His remaining eye widened slightly, though he still said nothing, "Don't keep quiet. We haven't talked about it since we went back and we need to get it out of the way," She took a deep breath before continuing, "Jean-Jaques his strong, but I can't expect him to shoulder protecting me during the entire trip. I thought we would be able to do this without any problems, but we were attacked in that inn and they were trying to keep us in. I think they

Raziel saw her hands make her way to her skirt's pocket and caress the dagger that Wardes had given her. He doubted she would ever use it, but he wasn't going to say that out loud; she would likely take it as a challenge, "I have nothing to talk about," He rubbed the back of his head and let out a tired breath, "You saw the experiments on the Count's lower floors, the people that had their feet cut off. Would you prefer that he continue unhindered?"

"That still doesn't excuse what you did!" Louise instantly rebuked. He pursed his lips together and resisted the urge to argue back, "Do you have any idea what you did? It wasn't just the fact that you killed the Count; you murdered all his guards too. How many of them were in on the Count and how many of them were just doing their jobs? You can't just kill people in your way when you think they deserve to die."

None of the sailors paid attention to what she said. Just as well; the Count's death didn't spread far enough to La Rochelle considering its location and low population. Besides, it was the words of a few sailors over the word of a noble. Even if they decided to make the two day journey to Tristain in order to accuse her of the crime, no investigation officially took off and the testimony of a few drunk guards wouldn't hold up very much compared to the word of the third daughter of the Valliere family.

"They attacked me, I fought back," Raziel replied, slight annoyance seeping into his tone, "I did not kill any of the servants since they did not attack me. I made no effort to attack them first and the women in the cellar made it clear that the guards were the ones who brought them food. I did not do it out of a desire for justice; they had made attempts on my life and I responded in kind."

"And that's what you tell yourself whenever you kill people? I don't know if I can ever live with that kind of weight," She looked down, her expression a mix of sadness and frustration, "Raziel...killing people is wrong. I should be angry with you right now, and I am, but I'm not going to throw you to the dungeons in order to save myself. But I was so tempted to take the Count's offer and just leave you to rot...that wasn't a joke about your...you know..." She pinched the bridge of her nose, "Listen, alright? We need to work together now. I have no idea what's going to happen but we can't waste our time snapping at each other. We need to work together. I'm your master and you're my Familiar."

He didn't understand it. From where he had come it was standard practice to kill whatever posed as a threat: It was almost instinctual for him or any Undead to do so, to attack and fight back against a world that wanted to see them eradicated. And yet his master talked about mercy, about how every human life mattered. He would never understand her.

"Why...did you not kill me?" He asked hesitantly. He honestly didn't understand why she hadn't killed him when he had gotten his eye gouged out. Granted he probably would've just revived and killed the Count when he came back, but he had no idea where the nearest bonfire was. He wasn't even sure if it was the same land as Lordran and its surrounding isles. He'd certainly never heard of elemental magic or Vampires before he had come here. By contrast they had never heard of Undead beyond stories and any demons they talked about came from legend and hearsay.

"...I don't really know," She admitted, "I guess I trusted my gut...or it was a temporary lapse in judgement that I'll be carrying for the rest of my life," She started fingering the dagger again, "I'm still not even sure if I made the right choice. If my mother saw me now she'd punish me either way: Either for treason or for letting my Familiar get out of control. I guess that's why I've been so frustrated while we were preparing to come here. First I summon an Undead for a Familiar and then he starts massacring people left and right. I decided to trust you and I made the decision before I could think more on it."

"...Th...Thank you..." The two words of gratitude came out softly, but Louise heard it all the same and smiled slightly.

"Don't thank me: I'm still not sure if I made the right choice," She waved off his words, "In either case, we need to cooperate if we don't want any more incidents. Jean-Jaques was given the location of a secret passage by the princess that's known only to the royal family that she found out from Prince Wales. While this means we have a secret entrance in, I can't discount the fact that it could be a trap or that someone could follow us in; anything could happen, especially since we were attacked at an inn where no one should be able to figure out where we were."

Raziel glanced around the deck of the 'ship' that he had been forced on. Riding it was a first experience for him, but he had learned to stifle his surprise since everything about this place was pretty much new to him. The members of the crew that weren't too busy with their duties were preoccupied with gawking at the Viscount's Griffon, which he had summoned to land when they first arrived. According to him, Griffons were unable to fly the distance to Albion and that was why they had to go through the trouble of hiring a ship.

"Speaking of which, how are your injuries doing?" Louise questioned, "I know what you said about injuries before, but we can't take any chances now. Our failure here means more than us; Tristain might have to face any threat alone and without Germania's help if that letter were ever to get out. Your injuries need to be checked so we can make sure if you can still fight effectively."

"I am capable," She gave him a disbelieving stare. Sighing, he started unbuttoning his shirt and removed the right side to show her his bare shoulder. Louise was acutely aware that it looked like she was forcing him to strip - and she kind of was - but she needed to put it behind her. She could deal with the jeers and whispers of a few sailors over death and the collapse of her beloved country. And if that meant looking somewhat perverted then she could deal with it.

"...Ew," These were the first words that passed Louise's lips. She grimaced as she saw the bullet wound - While there wasn't any blood to speak of and no sight of the bullet at all, she could make out the destroyed skin and what looked to be misshapen bones that came from the impact hitting against his flesh . She raised a finger and gently poked it, earning a small hiss and forcing Raziel's eye to close. His Undeath allowed him to ignore it and keep fighting, but it didn't change the fact that injuries still _**hurt** _him like it did any other human being; albeit to a marginally lesser degree compared to most normal people.

"This looks bad. The skin's misshapen and it looks like the bones got fractured when the bullet hit it," She bit her lip frustratedly, "I don't know what I can do to heal it." All of the knowledge on medicine she knew came from the books she read about them when she was younger. Beyond water magic, commoners were also capable of healing, although they were never as good as even a novice water Mage. Movement likely wouldn't help in its healing at all, but she needed her Familiar to be capable of swinging his sword around rather than lying down like a cripple or Guiche after too many drinks of wine.

She was kind of starting to regret not buying him armor. Or even a shield.

"It will heal on its own," Raziel replied, "Your...water magic is incapable of healing me and it will not take long. An Undead's body cannot truly break unless they Hollow, and I still have all of my senses, much as I wish at times to lose it completely." He 'joked'.

She gave another wry smile before pointing at his eye, "Right, we need to check that next. See if it healed at all." She could see Raziel's mouth turn into a slight frown at the command, "Come on, I've already seen it before, so there's no need to be shy," She teased slightly. His frown briefly turned into a smile at the light jab and he lifted the eyepatch.

"...Ew," She remarked again, causing him to sigh. While the eye looked better than before, it was still noticeably ravaged and appeared to be beyond healing - Though both them knew that this wasn't the case. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the small yet nasty looking scar that covered his right eye. When he opened his eyes all she could see was the whites of his eyes. She winced and turned away, which he took as a signal for him to return the white eyepatch to its place.

"Alright, so its still not healing," She shook her head; half in disbelief and half in dark amusement, "You know, you remind me of one of the stories I read when I was younger. A world where people lived forever and no one ever truly died. While those who died did decompose, they remained alive in agony: Just clinging to their past selves. The main character of the book was a man who called himself 'Humpnie Humbert' - A play on the Germanian legend about a monster called the 'Man Eating Doll' - was someone who was immortal in the sense that he never aged and that he never truly died."

"Humpnie Humbert? ...What a silly name," He commented, completely ignoring the irony in his statement.

"It was a Germanian story, what did you expect?" Louise agreed half-heartedly, "But in any case, you're not as impressive. Believe it or not, a part of me actually felt elated after I calmed down. I thought I got an immortal and indestructible Familiar," She eyed him up and down before sighing, "I guess immortals like that really are just a legend. Even the Elves have limited lifespans and Vampires need blood to stay alive, not to mention their weakness to sunlight."

If he wanted a Vampire for a Familiar then she had two she could have had right under he nose. Although a part of him felt slightly offended at the notion that he wasn't particularly impressive. While he didn't like to brag, he liked to think that taking on the remnants Lordran's Gods was impressive in its own right. Especially since no one else in the entire history Lordran apparently managed to do it. Or maybe they did and the time distortion kept it from being- He was getting confused. He hated thinking about time travel or temporal distortions. Solair and Logan were the experts in that regard."

"But I suppose I'll take what I can get," She sighed with forced drama, "So are we in agreement, then? Whatever feelings of hostility we have against one another and whatever disagreements we may have, we'll get along at least until the duration of this mission. We can't afford to waste our time with petty squabbles while the the entire country of Tristain is in distress. We can go back to hating each other after this, but lets just make sure that we're both alive after this."

"If it is what master desires," She could hear the slight relief in his voice. She guessed that he wanted to avoid conflict as long as it wasn't necessary.

Louise was about to reply before the sounds of loud yawning interrupted her, "Huwaaaaa~ Hey, what I miss?" Derf clicked, raising his hilt up slightly before suddenly slamming back down on the sheath. His place on Raziel's back ensured that he would have fallen of the railing's empty space if he moved around too much. And while it wouldn't hurt, he wasn't exactly looking forward to the idea of falling off a ship and plummeting to the ground.

"Nothing, you stupid sword," Louise replied with a bit of cheer. Derflinger raised an obviously metaphorical eyebrow. Where was her sour look and barely hidden anger? He must've been asleep for a while, "Right, then we should start preparing our things. We'll be arriving at Albion soon and from there it's going to be a straight path till the end. Come on, Humpnie, we should wake up Guiche."

"As you wish..." Raziel rolled his eye and laughed slightly at the obvious joke.

"Hey, partner, what the hell happened while I was sleeping," Derf clicked as Raziel stood up from the railing, "Did you and Pinky have a heart to heart or something? I dunno. Last I remember we were still at the academy. How long was I asleep."

"Two or three days," He shrugged. He wasn't sure for how long Derflinger was asleep, "And nothing happened."

"Heh, like I believe that," Raziel ignored him as he followed his master to the inner deck.

* * *

"Haa..." Wales placed both hands on the basin and placed the water against his face, breathing a sigh of relief as the cooling liquid relieved his skin. Blinking away the excess water, he grabbed for one of the spare cloths and wiped at his face roughly, doing his best to wipe away any traces of blood or anything else that would have made the others worry.

A tremor shook the castle briefly before all became quiet again. Weary blue eyes framed by bright blond hair looked up at the sound, though there was no surprise. His gaze drifted back to the mirror; he still appeared largely the same, but the dark circles under his eyes and the pastiness in his skin - caused by his third night of no sleep - was beginning to become more and more obvious, "Damn..." His hands grabbed against the dresser's edge and he gripped it tightly. He had kept himself awake through the use of water magics from his supporters, but it was obviously beginning to take its toll on him already.

The tremor just now was the ship called the Royal Sovereign, now called the Lexington - what used to be the royal family's largest ship - bombarding the castle again as a show of force. The rebels had overtaken it and now they were using it bombard newcastle both as a show of force and to taunt the remaining loyalists with the fact that it was their new ship that was being used against them. Wales had to admit that he found the dark comedy slightly amusing. His father's pride and joy - the one where all the taxes went to - was no used to ensure their enemies power.

Wales closed his eyes and pressed his face against the mirror, breathing sighs of relief as the cool material touched against his forehead. He was the prince of Albion...well, the only prince of Albion left at least. All his brother's - younger than him for he was the eldest - had been killed either during the fighting or being poisoned by untrustworthy servants and vassals. The Tudor line had been cut down to just him and his father, and come tomorrow they would die as well in here. They all convinced themselves that they would die with honor and fearlessness.

"Henrietta..." His tired eyes stared at the ruby of wind that was resting on his right ring finger. It was one of the Founder's artifacts and one of the things the two of them shared. Henrietta was an only child and he was the eldest of his brothers, so they both inherited the rings. He liked to think that it signified their bond in a way. Ah, but those were merely frivolous thoughts.

"Lord Wales!" A knocking at his door interrupted him, "Lord Wales! Our sentries spotted four people making their way through one of the passages!" The Voice of Gerald, his father's head butler, reported frantically.

"Which one?" He asked back. The royal family had many escape passages, most of which the enemy had already blocked or sealed off in some way. There were still a couple that they didn't know of, but for the most part it was pointless; all of them were going to die here and any that wished to leave had already been given a chance to leave. Although the sheer number of them made it quite evident that his father and those who came before him were paranoid to a fault. Either that or they were extremely careful.

"The southern passage! They don't carry the flags of the rebels, but neither do they carry the flags of the Albion royalty,"

Wales gasped softly at the news. Only he and his father, along with some servants, knew of the passages location. And all of the servants that knew were still in the castle, making it quite clear that no one else could have known where it was. The only person outside these walls who knew the passage's location was...no, he couldn't afford to make idle daydreams or false hope. They were alone here, and that was that.

"Stay calm. I will be there to meet with them personally," Gerald gave a quick "Yes" before he ran away quickly to inform the sentries. Something told the prince that whoever was using the passage was no foe. He would have to believe they weren't, else they were in for an early execution.

He stared at his reflection one last time before smiling and donning another mask of cheerfulness and courage. After all, it was the prince's duty to keep calm and instill courage in their subjects. No matter how scared or angry they were, it was their honor bound duty to do this. He was the last of the heirs and the burden fell on his shoulders.

...No matter how much he wished it didn't and how much he hated it.

* * *

**So I wanted to advance the arc more, and then I made a chapter that was essentially filler :/ Ah well, the next chapter is the next part of the Albion arc with (hopefully) more emphasis on Wales, Wardes, and the loyalists. Oh, and Tabitha and Fouquet along with their pursuers, of course. **

**Question time. I'll try to keep it short.**

**Der Kaiser - Artificial, so she didn't have a Firekeeper Soul.**

**Strogg Grunt - ...When did I ever say he was unkillable? He's strong, but he's not immune to death. He says point blank in Chapter 18 that Daphne could have killed him if she wasn't holding back. He'll die if you lop his head off.**

**Demons Anarchy - Mott wasn't in the manga; he's anime exclusive. Oh, and I'd like to know what made you think they were romance partners considering their most meaningful interaction was Raziel jamming a knife into Daphne's neck and ignoring Amethyst. Just because someone's female doesn't mean they're there for the purpose of a pairing - I would have made them male if they were male in canon. While ZNT is harem rom-com, Dark Souls isn't - it actually comes off as kind of anti-romance given the state of the world - and I'm using themes from both medias. So please don't assume every female is there for Raziel's benefit or to be paired off. Hell, the only reason they interacted at first was due to a mistake on info.**

**BloodTrinity - I'll be honest now: I HATE the dream sequence excuse. Yes, its canon to Fate Stay Night, but nowhere is it canon in ZNT or even Dark Souls. Nine out of ten times people use the dream sharing with no excuse beyond 'Well, Hill of Swords used it so I'm using it too!'. That and it forces the characters to talk rather than making them suck up their vitriol and talk it out like adults. If Raziel and Louise want to get closer, they have to suck up and deal rather than having some kind of dream bond force them into talking.**

**ConstructiveWriter - I have an ending in mind, two of them in fact, but the journey to get there is subject to change. So don't worry about it having a 'Gainax ending' and just ending on an weird note.**

**Delinquent Author - Maybe. They interact more with the Valliere's in general later on, but Raziel's not really important to them since he's not really a friend.**

**Guest - Doesn't know. He'll find out when he finds out.**

**CodeGeassAddict - Not clamoring for Henrietta/Kirche/Tiffania like everybody else? That's new. **

**TimUnderwood - Except that's even worse than a badly written fight scene. For a comedy scene? Maybe. But for a serious scene? No way. I hate writing them, but I hate my story losing any seriousness it has or killing off build up even more. I do it if its not story essential or breaking, however, as shown in the first part of this chapter  
**

**XcelltasticX - Tabitha arc is too far off, along with the Jormungand, so its a bit soon to ask on it. He'll be stronger by that point, so there's that. Pyromancy charges respawn for him, albeit slowly. There was an off-hand mention of who you're looking for in chapter 15, though whether its her or not is up to you to guess. Oh, and he already saw Sylphid's human form - Though he didn't know it was her. Tiffania wouldn't bug him either since he's not a native of Halk and Dusk of Oolacile - According to official art - has pointed ears so he wouldn't really care. **

**And not sure about death. You can make an excuse that he's tethered to the Asylum by the one who dropped him there, but Louise's Familiar bindings aren't strong enough, as shown by his incomplete runes. So that won't work. Regardless, death is dangerous for him: He wouldn't care about tactics otherwise if he can insta-respawn whenever he wants, and then the story gets boring cause there's no tension.**

**Joe - Thanks, that clears it up.**


End file.
